


Gods and Monsters

by Refreshingly_Original



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: F/M, Major Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-11 19:13:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7904353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Refreshingly_Original/pseuds/Refreshingly_Original
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Mr Tanner, pleasure to meet you." The blonde said, holding out her hand to shake his, "As you know, I'm Carmon Bond and your security sucks." Having just walked into MI6's back up base, Carmon throws M's already upside down world for a loop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Bond. Carmon Bond.**

* * *

Walking into MI6’s backup base was ridiculously easy as far as Carmon was concerned. All she had to do was dress herself in a black pencil skirt, matching blazer and heels, smile at the guard and she was in. As she walked passed one of the exiting man, she made sure to bump into him, flashing him an apologetic smile as she lifted the badge clipped to his suit and enter the lift, clipping it to the inside of her own top. Managing to walk into the head of MI6’s office was a little concerning, especially after what had happened, but she didn’t let her mind dwell on that. She had more important things to focus on. Closing the glass door behind her, she pointed a finger at the surprised, short woman.  


“First of all, building security sucks.” She said, holding the widened blue eyed gaze of the white haired woman, “Secondly,” She turns to blonde man she now stood beside, “How dare you leave without telling me.” She snapped, half stomping her heeled foot.

The only change in his blank look was the raised eyebrow, “What are you, six?”

Copying the move, Carmon dropped her arm and looked him over critically, “And what are you, eighty?” She bit out sarcastically.

“Excuse me!” The short white haired lady called shrilly, “Who are you?”

Looking at the short woman calmly, she tilted her head, “Carmon ma’am.”

“And how did you get in here?”

Raising her eyebrows slightly at the angry woman, she focused on her, “I walked in ma’am.”

“How did you get past security?” She asked with a narrowed gaze.

Glancing at the man standing beside her, still not showing any emotion, she smirked. Looking back at the woman glaring at her, she stepped forward and placed the ID clip on the desk, “I walked past them ma’am.”

For a moment no one moved, both blondes watching the woman behind the desk closely as she read over the name on the tag.

 _Gareth Mallory_.

They were not disappointed.

“Idiots!” She hissed, yanking the phone up to her ear, “Tanner double the security and then get up here!”  Slamming the phone down, she planted both hands on the desk and leant on it, heaving a strong sigh. When she looked up, she saw that her agent and Carmon were talking quietly. Obviously Bond knew her, _‘No surprise there.’_ She thought with a roll of her eyes. Standing up straight, she watched the young lady closely as she spoke, “Why are you here, Ms Carmon?”

Without much of a look, Carmon reached into her blazer and pulled out an object the size of a tape cassette. “Thought you’d like this back.” She said, tossing it to her.

Catching the item between her hands, she turned it around and looked at it, gasping loudly when she realized what she held.

“M?”

Looking up at Bond, she absentmindedly noticed the look of concern, “The hard-drive.”  She whispered, sitting down.

Bond looked from M to the device, to Carmon before looking back at his boss. “Are you alright M?” He asked, stepping forward.

“How did you get this?”

“I ran across the man on his way to deliver it to his boss and decided to get it back.” She explained with a shrug.

“Where’d you _run across_ him?” James asked, his brow furrowing in a frown.

“In a bar.”

“And what were you doing in a bar?”

Smirking up at him, Carmon crossed her arms, “Having a drink.”

As the two spoke, behind the desk M pulled out bottle and a glass, pouring out a generous measure of the amber liquid. “But how did you manage to get the hard-drive?”

Turning around, Carmon took the quarter filled glass, ignoring the narrowed gaze, and looked at the bare wall in front of her, “I took the bloody shot.” She whispered, chucking back the liquid like a pro.

Ice blue eyes narrowed at the practiced move, while the others widened in shock at the answer.

Firmly placing the glass back on the table behind her, Carmon waited until she heard the older woman stop pouring before bringing it back around to her lips, only for it to be pulled from her grasp. Pushing up from the table, she glared at the frowning agent.

“Give me that back.” She growled.

Throwing the drink back, Bond slammed the glass on desk, “I’m not going to let you get drunk.”

“Why? You do it often enough.”

“I happen to be over the age of eighteen.” He growled.

M was glad she was already sitting at the mention of age, because she didn’t know whether she was more horrified, angry, or surprised. She certainly didn’t look under age. “Christ.” She whispered, filling the glass for a third time.

Just as she was about to drink it, it was snatched away again. Reacting quickly, M reached out and grabbed hold of her wrist, “Enough.” She said sternly, taking the glass with her other hand.

Turning around fully now, Carmon looked from the hand firmly gripping her wrist to the cool blue eyes of the petite woman, a slow smile spreading across her dark red lips. “Feisty,” She licked her lips, “I bet you’re just the same in bed.”

Mouth dropping open, M stared wide eyed at the teen in front of her. Before she could say anything, Tanner entered her office.

“Ma’am?”

Dropping the hand she held, M pulled herself together and looked at her Chief of staff, “Mr Tanner, this is Ms Carmon, she’s Bonds…” She waved her hand, not quite sure how to put it.

“Daughter.”

M’s head snapped up as the pair spoke in unison. Well, that made a lot more sense then what she had presumed. “Daughter?” She repeated quietly.

_‘How the bloody hell did I miss that? I’d know those eyes anywhere!’_

Matching blue eyes stared at her; unnerving her as they seemed to peer into her soul.

Carmon let out a chuckle and looked at her father, “Wow, they really do think of you as a lady’s man, don’t they.” She laughed, “Surely they realize you’re actually a one woman man-”

“Carmon.” He snapped, cutting her off effectively.

Any trace of amusement vanished at the tone. “Oh don’t you _Carmon_ me. I’m not the one who left without saying why!”

“You know damn well why I left.”

“Oh yes, how could I forget. For Queen and Country!” She yelled, throwing her hands up, “How about for once, just once you admit the real reason you came back!”

The two stood toe-to-toe, panting in anger; neither willing to back down. Opening his mouth to release the stream of excuses he had used over the years, he found himself frozen by the sound of his boss’s soft voice.

“Bond, take a walk. We’ll finish up later.”

Breathing in deeply, he took one last look at his daughters cold eyes and left.

As the glass door clicked shut, Carmon exhaled sharply. Straightening up, she took a calming breath before turning to Tanner, who stood next to his desk, and smiled.

“Mr Tanner, pleasure to meet you.” She said, holding out her hand to shake his, “As you know, I’m Carmon Bond and your security sucks.”

* * *

Sitting on the beautiful, yet uncomfortable couch in the room her father had been staying in, Carmon carefully started on shading in the last section of the picture she had been working on since she had been dropped off at the hotel. Just as she was about to finish it, a sharp knock echoed through the room. Looking up, she considered ignoring it, but as the second round started, she sighed and stood up.  


“Just a minute!” She called, putting her sketch book down on the small table. Looking around for her black robe, she found it lying across the back of the armchair across from her. Sighing again, she quickly put it on and tied it as she crossed to the door. All but yanking it from its hinges, she growled, “What?”

The young man, dressed in his dark green jacket and black pants stepped back in fright, “I-I’m sorry ma’am, but you’re room has b-been cancelled. You h-have until midnight to leave.”

“By who?” She snarled.

“By me.”

Looking from the shaking man to the short woman she had only met that day, Carmon pursed her lips. “What are you doing here?”

M smiled sadly, “To take you home dear.”

Narrowing her ice blue eyes, Carmon glanced at the uncomfortable man beside the short woman, “And if I don’t wish to leave with you?”

“My daughter, always has to be difficult she does.” The petite woman joked, glancing up at the man who still stood beside her. Turning back to Carmon who now seemed less inclined to slam the door in her face, she continued, “Just because we had a fight dear doesn’t mean you have to leave.”

For a moment, Carmon held the door tightly in her grasp, starring at M in contemplation. Stepping aside sharply, she gestured for the older woman to come in before shutting the door. Outside, the man let out a sigh of relief before making his way back down to the front desk.

Back in the room, the two women stood facing each other. Carmon with her arms crossed, M with her briefcase hanging by her side.

“Why are you really here M?” Carmon asked, walking back over to the seat she had been sitting in before.

Watching the dark blonde closely, M spoke carefully. “To take you to my home.”

Blue eyes snapped up from the sketch pad, “Why, I’m perfectly fine here.”

“It would be unwise to leave the daughter of an agent alone,” She explained, making her way over to the armchair, “Besides, I can’t explain the expenses of renting the room now that Bond is on a mission.”

“You wouldn’t have too.” Carmon dismissed, turning back to her sketch, “MI6 hasn’t been paying for the room since the first night.”

“What?”

Sighing, Carmon carefully rested her hand on the spiral of the book, making sure none of the charcoal came in contact with the paper as she answered, “Dad has been paying for everything since the second morning. He had it transferred to his account the morning he went back to work.”

“Why would he do a thing like that?”

Across from her, Carmon stared at her, as if expecting her to answer her own question.

“What?” She asked, becoming self-conscious at the continuous stare.

“Nothing,” She sighed, turning back to her picture.

M, watching the girl closely, frowned, “Aren’t you going to pack?”

“No.”

“Why ever not? The rooms been cancelled.”

“And whose fault is that.” Carmon drawled, looking up at her through her lashes. When all she got in reply was pursed lips, she sighed and closed her book, “Look, we have until midnight and I’ve already rung down for room service. I’m not leaving anytime soon, so you might as well make yourself at home.”

“I was right.” The short woman scoffed, “You are difficult.”

“And you’re a bitch, so I guess we’re even.” She said, reopening her book. Only a little more and it’d be finished.

“You’re father called me a bitch.”

Carmon glanced up, “Why would he do that?” She asked sarcastically.

She ran a hand through her short hair, “I told the Doctor to ask about Skyfall.” She admitted quietly, crossing her legs.

Slowly, the blonde girl looked up at the woman, her expression blank. “You’re lucky.”

“Oh? How so?” The shorter of the two asked disbelievingly.

“Anyone else and he would have shot them.” She said, closing the book she held with a snap, “Skyfall is not something he talks about, and for good reason.” Standing, she ran a hand through her long hair, “The psychological problems that his report will not doubt have are from things you know nothing about.”

“I may not have been as young as he was when he lost his parents,” M started, a deep frown marring her expression. “But the trauma he suffered-”

Carmon let out a sharp laugh, “The trauma from losing ones parents at such a _young_ age. The reason he rejects authority figures, because he had no one to tell him right from wrong and had to be independent from such a _young_ age. Ha!” She turned around, her hair flaring out, “He was taking care of himself long before those people died. Your reports,” She spat, “Only tell part of the story. _You_ , only know part of the story.”

Turning away from the gobsmacked woman, Carmon ran both hands through her hair. Chest heaving from her rant, she waited until her heart had calmed enough before turning back around to face her father’s boss. Taking a deep breath, she tilted her head. “Why don’t you order yourself something to eat, I’ll run you a bath. After a day like today, I have no doubt you’d like to relax.”

“What I’d like is to go home.”

“Yes, well what I’d like is to have my father not constantly be in danger of being killed, but just like you, life’s a bitch.” She looked at her, flicking her head to the phone by the door, “Ring for tea while I run your bath and then I’ll pack.” She made sure to be in the bedroom before the older woman had a chance to say anything.

Standing there, just around the corner, she waited, listening. When she heard M place her order, she moved through to the bathroom. Flipping the tap to almost boiling, she added some scented body wash before quickly cleaning up the mess she had made earlier. Taking her dirty clothes to the bedroom where she dumped them on the bed to deal with later. Looking through the cupboard, she pulled out the extra towel and robe, hanging the later on the back of the door and placing the towel on the basin beside the tub. Listening closely, she heard the tell-tale sign of a phone being replaced on the hook. Sighing, she dipped her hand into hot bubbly water. Flicking the water from her hand, she turned the tap off before walking back through to the sitting room.

“Baths ready.”

Nodding, M stood up from where she sat, “Dinner will be here in twenty minutes.” When all she got was a dismissive wave of her hand, she sighed and left. She didn’t understand why she was bending to the will of a seventeen year old, or why she was allowing her to speak to her in such a way, but there she was, stripping down to hop in the heavenly scented bath because she told her to. Stepping into the hot water, she let out a groan in pleasure.

_‘Christ this feels wonderful.’_

* * *

Back in the sitting room, Carmon sat back in her spot on the uncomfortable sofa and opened her book once more. Now that the woman wasn’t in the room, she could finish it. As she focused on the shading, she slowly relaxed, the anger she felt towards the head of MI6 gradually leaving her. Tongue peeking out between her bare lips, she carefully signed the picture in the bottom right corner. Holding it back, she looked over the sketch. Nodding in acceptance, she looked up at the clock. Fifteen minutes until dinner would arrive. Just enough time to pack. Cleaning up her art supplies, she stacked everything up and carried it into the bedroom.  


Spying her clothes from earlier still on the bed, she pulled out her small suitcase and stuffed them in before zipping it up. Her gear done, she moved to the wardrobe and pulled out the few clothes her father had left behind and folded them. Once all the clothes were neatly folded, she pulled out the duffle bag from the bottom of the cupboard and put them in. Zipping it up, she took both out to the main room and left them by the door before turning round and packing the few items she had in her satchel. As she was clipping it shut, there was a knock on the door.

“Right on time.” She muttered, placing her bag with the rest by the door. Opening it, she stepped aside to allow the man to push the cart through.

“Will that be all ma’am?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Of course ma’am.” He tipped his head and left, closing the door behind him.

Uncovering the two dishes, she carried them over to the small table by the window, placing them down just as M walked out of the bedroom, running a hand through her darkened hair. Glancing her over, Carmon couldn’t help but smile as the somewhat damp satin robe draped across her body like liquid. On her, it came to her knees, but on M, it rested comfortably around her shins.  Dragging her eyes back up from her waist, she noticed how low the pink material sat open. She could definitely understand the allure the woman had.

“Feel better?” She asked, straightening up.

“Yes, thank you.” M adjusted the neckline of the robe, “Are you?”

Arching a brow at the shorter woman, Carmon looked at her, “Am I what?”

“Calmer?”

She snorted, “I suppose so, yes.”

Pulling her chair out, M sat down, “So you won’t be calling me a bitch again?”

Sitting across from her, Carmon smiled faintly, amusement colouring her eyes, “The night is still young M.”

* * *

Ice blue eyes snapped open at the light touch on her ankle. Sitting up, she looked at the short woman smiling at her from the end of the bed.  


“Good morning dear.”

Carmon narrowed her eyes at the cheerful woman, “What time it is?”

“Five thirty.”

“Fuck you and everything you stand for.” She spat out before falling back to bed, pulling the blanket up and over her head.

Arching her brow, M raised the steaming cup she held to her lips to hide her smile, “Breakfast will be ready soon.”

A muffled groan was her response.

Shaking her head, she turned and left, closing the door behind her.

After waiting a few moments, Carmon flung the blanket back and got up. No point in lazing about now that she was awake. Pulling out the only other set of clothes she had with her, Carmon ducked into the bathroom and quickly changed. Looking into the mirror above the sink, she stared at reflection. Her eyes and hair were a dead match for her fathers, but everything else, the high cheekbones, small nose and thin lips were all her mother. Sighing, she ran a brush through her hair and tied it up, not bothering with any makeup.

* * *

Down in the kitchen, M made up two plates of eggs and toast. She wasn’t a big eater in the morning and she had the feeling neither was Carmon.  _‘How did I not know James had a daughter? We do a background check every year. Why didn’t he tell us? Who is she? Why is she here?’_ Just as she was placing the plates on the table, the person occupying her thoughts walked in dressed in skinny jeans and t-shirt. Glancing down at her feet, she couldn’t help but arch her brow in question at the black converse, but otherwise stayed silent.  


As the teen sat down at the small table, she turned to the kettle. “Tea?” She inquired, filling her cup up once more.

“No thank you.”

Nodding, she turned around and sat across from the already eating girl, “What will you do today?”

“I’ll have to go out shopping. I only have what I wore yesterday and this,” She gestured to what she had on, “Then I’ll start looking for an apartment for Dad and I. When I get back, I’ll unpack what little of our gear I have.”

“An apartment?” M asked, her brow furrowing as she looked at the girl.

Finally Carmon looked up at her, “Well you did sell Dads old one.”

“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.” She offered, “I’m hardly here, so you’d have the place to yourself most of the time.”

Carmon huffed out a laugh, “I honestly don’t believe you would allow both my father and I to stay here if he comes back.” She smirked at the older woman, picking up her piece of toast, “After all, you wouldn’t allow him to stay the night when he returned.”

M looked down at the table in guilt. She had just been so angry. She knew he had been in severe pain when she found him in the dining room, but her anger at him for not telling her he was alive stopped her from offering him to stay. Instead, she had ordered him away.

“James always come back.” She whispered.

“One day he won’t.”

After that, they spoke very little, sitting in a heavy silence until M got up to get ready. While the shorter woman went upstairs, Carmon cleared up the small mess left behind. Washing the dishes the by hand always helped clear her mind. Leaving them to dry on the rack, she left the kitchen to retrieve her satchel from the guest room. Making sure her wallet was in there, she picked up her jacket and left, running into M in the hall. Looking her over, she noticed the tight navy dress she wore under the loose coat that she would no doubt wear the whole day. The dark black stockings gave her pause for a moment, the outfit would look much better with sheer ones. She knew the older woman must know that, so why was she wearing those ones?

M, once again beginning to feel uncomfortable at the analysing glare, cleared her throat. “Ready to go?” She asked when blue eyes locked with her own.

“After you.”

Nodding, M lead the way down the stairs and to the front door. As she pulled her trench out from the cupboard, she looked at the young girl, “Would you like to be dropped off somewhere?”

“No, I’ll take a bus or something.”

Nodding again, M walked out, spying the car pulled up in front of the house. “I’ll give you my direct number, just in case you need anything.”

Carmon snorted, “I already have it.”

“What?”

“Dad gave it to me in case of an emergency before he left yesterday. See,” She said, holding her cell up, the screen alight with M’s contact information, “It’s under Bitch.”

M rolled her eyes, “Very funny.”

“I thought so.”

Shaking her head, M opened the door and hopped in, only to pause and look at her over the door, “You will be careful won’t you.”

“I will.”

“Good.” M sighed, “Call if you need help.”

This time Carmon rolled her eyes, “Get in. You’re late.”

“Right, bye.”

Again Carmon’s eyes rolled. “Bye.” She waited until the car was gone before turning away and walking down the street. “Christ,” She muttered, pulling out her headphones. Staying with her was going to be an experience.

* * *

When M walked through the door that night, it was to the sight of Carmon sitting in front of the lit fire, sketch book resting on her raised knees, listening to something, if her headphones where anything to go by. Oddly enough, seeing the teenager so relaxed in her home didn’t cause her any hesitation, rather, she felt quite warmed by the sight. She refused to look into why she didn’t mind Carmon staying with her beyond the idea that she was lonely.  


Slipping from her over coat, she hung it up in the cupboard and walked over to the teen, stopping just beside the armchair she had set up near the fireplace and rested her briefcase beside it. As she rummaged through it, looking for the file she wanted to read over, she spoke.

“What do you want for tea? I can have my driver-”

“I’ve already prepared tea.” Carmon said, wrapping her headphone around the small brick beside her, “If you can wait an hour to eat, I can heat it up for you.” She continued, making her way into the kitchen.

“You prepared-” She spoke, following the blonde, “I usually just order in.”

Glancing up from where she was bent over, putting a dish in the oven, Carmon spoke, “Yes, I figured that. So I went to the grocers around the corner and bought a few things.” Standing up, she wiped her hands on the dish towel, “You have enough time to shower if you want.”

“What is it?” The older woman asked, eyeing the oven suspiciously as her younger roommate walked past.

“A casserole.”

M nodded slowly, surprise stilling clinging to her features. When she was seventeen she didn’t know how to scramble eggs, let alone make a casserole. “I think I’ll work instead.” She said, turning around.

Already sitting back in the corner of her of the sofa, the young Bond picked up her sketch book once more, “Okay.”

Picking up her brief case, she walked round to her desk and set up her computer. Not too long later both women were wrapped up in their own work. One focused on the reports on the screen, the other on the page before her. But as the time passed, M noticed that Carmon was looking up at her before turning back to her book. Finally, when she could no longer stand staring at her screen, wondering why she was constantly under scrutiny from the younger girl, she looked up at her.

“Is there something wrong?” She asked, folding her arms on the desk calmly.

“No.”

“Then would you explain why you keep looking at me?”

“I can’t look at a beautiful woman?”

“That still doesn’t explain why you were looking at me.” She said with a frown.

She smiled widely, “It’ll have to do for now. Tea’s ready.”

* * *

“That was delicious Carmon.” M said, leaning back in her seat at the table, “Where did you learn to cook like that?”  


Copying her, Carmon shrugged, “When I was growing up, my mother left me alone quite a bit, so I spent most of my childhood with the lady who lived upstairs. She taught me pretty much everything I know. She didn’t have any of her own children, said she didn’t find the right man to settle down with. Maria, her name was. She was more of a mother to me than my own was.”

Frowning, M slowly licked her lips, “If you don’t mind my asking Carmon, who is your mother?”

“Elizabeth Saxton.”

“Does she know where you are?”

“She’s dead.”

M’s eyes widened at the blunt answer, “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” She shook her head, “She gave up her rights to me when I found dad. She never wanted me.”

“So James has full parental rights over you.” She nodded, “What did you do when he was working?” She asked, leaning forward.

“When I moved in with him, he sat me down and explained what he did. He explained that he couldn’t be here all the time and gave me the choice of going to boarding school or having a live in nanny. I chose boarding school.”

“How did that work out? What if you were on holidays and he was away?”

Carmon looked at the white haired woman, eyes flicking from one spot to the next, “Why do you want to know?”

“Curiosity.” She said shrugging, but the light blush of her cheeks said otherwise.

Smirking, Carmon huffed, “Uh-huh. Well, for the most part, he tried to be there for me when I came home, but if he couldn’t be, I stayed with Maria, failing that, he hired someone to stay with me.”

For a few minutes, neither spoke. Carmon sat watching as M put her thoughts in order, waiting for her to ask whatever questions were floating around in her head.

“How much do you know of what your father does?” She asked slowly, looking at her without any trace of emotion, “You said he explained what he did, how much did he tell you?”

“Everything.”

“What.”

“Dad told me everything. He works for MI6, he goes on missions to bring down terrorist cells, he kills when he’s ordered too.” She paused, looking at the frozen woman, “That he’s been tortured multiple times. That your bodyguard was part of a group called Quantum and tried to kill you. That someone is now trying to destroy you and everything you’ve worked so hard for and that you’re not telling him everything.” She finished slowly, watching the older woman.

“He shouldn’t have told you any of that.” She whispered angrily.

Carmon shrugged, “If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have known about the hard-drive and been able to bring it back to you.” She sighed, rolling her shoulders, “Besides, who else is he going to confide in? He can’t go to a therapist, he wouldn’t be able to speak about everything. He can’t go to his co-workers, even if they would understand what he’s feeling, because they haven’t been read in on some of the cases he’s dealt with or don’t have the clearance. The only one who he would be able to talk to wouldn’t listen to him, because to her, he’s nothing but a pawn. She only likes him because he’s the best she’s got.”

M pursed her lips, “You go for the jugular don’t you.”

“M,” She sighed, leaning forward, “You must realise by now that I don’t care about much. My father is at the top of the short list of what I do care about, and because he works for you, he is in constant danger. I have a lot of anger towards you for sending him away.”

“He doesn’t do it for me; he does it for Queen and Country. It’s his duty!”

Carmon shook her head and pushed up from the table. “I wish it were that simple.” She sighed, turning to leave.

“If that’s the way you feel,” M called, standing up, “Why are you still here?”

“Because for some reason, my father cares for you and I care for my father.” She turned her head, barely looking over her shoulder, “I’m going to have a shower.”

And before she could say any more, the blonde was gone, leaving M standing in her kitchen confused with what she had just been told.

* * *

Sitting at her desk, M read over the progress report Bond had sent her. It wasn’t much, but at least he was getting somewhere. Sighing, she clicked out of it and opened another email when Carmon walked back down, dressed in her short black satin nightie and matching robe. Without a word, she sat down in the corner of her sofa and opened her book.  _‘All right then.’_ M mentally sighed, turning back to focus on her work.  


It wasn’t long, probably an hour or so later that Carmon closed her book and neatly packed away her pencils. After stacking them carefully on her book, she laid down with her head on the small throw pillow she had been resting against and sighed.

“Do you really think he would sleep with an underage girl?” She asked quietly, looking up at the white ceiling.

Looking up from her screen, M frowned, not sure where this line of questioning was going, “Your father?” She pursed her lips, “I would not be surprised if it turned out some of the women he’s slept with were underage.” She said, leaning back in her chair, “Why?”

Blinking quickly to stop the tears from spilling over, Carmon answered, “He isn’t what everyone thinks he is. They’re just marks, part of the job.” She whispered, rolling onto her side, “No one looks past the exterior, not when you’re double O.”

“No, I don’t suppose they do.”

“I thought for sure you would.” She sighed, “The way he speaks about you, I thought for sure you saw beyond the façade of a womanizer.” Shaking her head, she stood up, collecting her book and pencils, “I was wrong.”

“Were you?”

“Yes.”

M sat back in her chair, her hands folded neatly across her stomach, watching as she made her way to the stairs.

“M,” She said, pausing on the first stair, “You should know, I know everything about my father. He holds nothing back when he tells me things. Because of this, I know he isn’t the lady’s man you think he is. He doesn’t sleep with anyone outside of work. He wouldn’t betray the woman he loves like that.”

Having said her piece, she nodded her head, whispered a soft _good night_ and went to bed.

* * *

For the next few days, things continued the way they had on the first day, M went to work, Carmon went apartment hunting, hoping to find something before her father came back so he wouldn’t be forced to stay in a hotel. They shared dinner, made small talk, never touching on the topic of James, and sat in the living room together to work on separate things before heading to bed. But on the fourth night, things changed.  


M was sitting on the sofa, laptop resting on her knees, staring at the screen with an unreadable expression. She had found the photo that had been used in the short animation she had received just before MI6 had blown up. So focused on the pictures in front of her, she didn’t hear the door opening behind her.

“I’m back.”

Jumping, M spun around, “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” She admonished, turning back to her screen.

“Sorry.” Carmon said sheepishly, stopping behind her to look at the screen, “What’s that?” She asked, pointing to the portrait of her in the union jack.

“A taunt.”

“Oh?”

“Someone from my past wants to kill me.”

“No kidding, blowing up your office was just for fun.” She drawled, having already guess that. Looking at her, she frowned, “You know who it is, don’t you.”

“That photo was taken in Hong Kong before I became M. I gave a rogue agent to the Chinese after he hacked their system and got six other agents back.”

“So it’s the rogue agent wanting revenge.”

“He’s supposed to be dead.”

“So was Dad.” Carmon scoffed, walking around the sofa to put the small bag on the coffee table, “Come on, you need to eat.”

M finally looked up from the screen, “What’d you get?”

Carmon hesitated, “Chinese.”

“I think I’ll pass.” She replied dryly.

Grimacing, Carmon looked up at her, “I can make you something.”

M shook her head, “No, that’s the reason you went out to get food, you didn’t want to cook.” She sighed, “Besides, I’m not all that hungry.”

Frowning, Carmon looked her over, “You probably haven’t eaten since this morning.” She commented, heading for the kitchen. Seconds later, she walked back out, thrusting a banana in front of the sitting woman’s face. “Here.”

“A banana?” She asked, looking up at her with a raised eyebrow.

Carmon shrugged, “Well, I don’t feel like cooking, and it should be enough to tide you over until morning.” She smirked, “Plus, potassium.”

“What am I going to do with you?” She sighed before peeling away the yellow skin.

“Oh I could think of a few things.” She waggled her brows, laughing when M looked at her in shock.

Shaking her head, she muttered quietly under her breath, “Christ.”

Flashing her a smile, Carmon sat down on the floor and opened the small container of rice, easily manipulating the chopsticks in her hand to pick up her food. As the two ate, M continued to stare at her screen in contemplation. Before her, the screen flashed, the images she had open distorting before an advert popped up. Eyes widening, she dropped what was left of her banana.

“Shit.” She hissed, grapping her cell from the table in front of her, pressing one on her speed dial, “Tanner, he’s hacked into the network again. Trace it.”

Dropping her own dinner, Carmon all but dived onto the couch beside her, staring at the slot machine on the screen. “Christ.” She looked from one column to the next, eyeing the coat of arms, M and gun before it started spinning. Slowly one by one, each picture was replaced with a skull. A few seconds later, the screen went black, the words _Think on your sins_ sitting in the middle tauntingly. The screen flashed and returned to what it was before.

“What do you mean he didn’t hack into the network?” She waited, “He used mine? How?”

Carmon looked from the computer to M.

“Well find out!” She cried, snapping the phone shut. “Christ.”

Hopping up, Carmon quickly cleaned up their food, dumping it all in the bin in the kitchen before walking back out.

“What are you doing?” M asked, frowning at the rushing girl.

“We’re leaving.” She said, taking the laptop and putting it on her desk. “He knows where you live. You’re not safe here.”

“What are you talking about? This place is constantly being watched.”

Carmon sighed, “M, by hacking into your own network, not MI6’s, he found out where you live. This man blew up MI6 Headquarters. I don’t think a few guards are going to stop him from coming in here and killing you while you sleep.” She glared at the short woman, “So grab what you need, some old clothes you won’t miss and let’s go.”

“Let me call the ca-”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Forgive me for not trusting your people, but the last person who drove you tried to kill you. We’ll take a taxi.”

* * *

Six blocks from her house, dressed in her work clothes with only a thin jacket on, M pulled a small suitcase behind her, mentally arguing with herself on why she decided to continue wearing her heels.  _‘Oh yes, because she said we were going to take a taxi, not walk.’_ She sighed and swapped her case to her other hand. Looking beside her, she sneered at the flats her companion wore while adjusting the small duffle she had slung over her shoulder.  


“You’ve probably realized, but I’m not as young as you, nor am I in flats, so when can we get that blasted taxi.” She gripped, “And why did you pack so much? You told me to bring only what I needed.”

Rolling her eyes, Carmon readjusted the bag hanging from her own shoulder, “I’ll ring for a taxi after the next block or so. As for the bags, we don’t know if he knows I’m staying with you, so I bought everything with me, besides, Dad would be pissed if I left his gear there.”

“You have your fathers stuff?” M asked, frowning at her.

“Well I wasn’t leaving it at the hotel.”           

“What do you have?”

“Clothes mostly, pair of shoes, journal.” She shrugged, “The usual.”

M looked up at her in surprise, “He keeps a journal?”

She nodded.

“What does he write about?”

“He doesn’t.”

“He doesn’t what?”

“Write. He’s not allowed to. He draws.” She explained as she dug around her own satchel. Growling, she took the bag from her shoulder containing her father’s things and thrust it to M, “Hold this, I can’t find my cell.”

Grabbing the bag, M watched as she lifted things from out of the bag. Sketch book, novel, MP3, pistol. “You have a gun!” She gasped, looking up the teenager with wide eyes.

Carmon looked up at her with an arched brow, “My fathers an MI6 agent and I’m bunking with the Head of said agency, of course I have a gun!”

“Was that a silencer?” She cried, her eyes focusing back on the bag.

Sighing, Carmon closed her satchel and took back her father’s gear, “Think of it this way, if someone was attacking us in your house and I shot them, would you want the neighbours ringing the police because they heard gun shots?” She asked, not looking up from the small buttons she was taping.

M tilted her head in agreement, only to glare sternly at her at her next thought, “How’d you even get a gun in the first place?” At the arched brow, she sighed and looked down the road, “Right, never mind.”

“Yes, hello,” Carmon turned slightly, speaking softly into her phone, “I would like a taxi to take my mother and I to the Molten hotel.” She waited a few beats, listening to the server before giving their whereabouts. Nodding her head, she said a soft thank you before ending the call. “Five minutes.”

“Good.” M grumbled, looking around. She sighed and glanced back at the blonde, “We’re staying at that dump?”

“No.” And that was all she said on the matter until the taxi arrived.

* * *

Looking around the dingey little room, M couldn’t help but scowl. The brown wallpaper was peeling off everywhere, the old wooden floor looked like it hadn’t been swept in month, and the bed which their bags sat on was nothing more than a mattress on top of a pile of bricks and piece of board.   


“I’m not staying here.” She snapped, spinning around to look at the girl coming out of the disgusting bathroom.

“You’re not.” She said, moving to stand beside her, “Which case holds your old clothes?”

M pointed to the small duffle bag beside her case. Before she could say anything, Carmon unzipped it and started unpacking the small amount of clothes; hanging up the few dresses that looked like they hadn’t been worn in years. The jackets that matched soon followed the dresses, as did the pants and tops, while the shoes were sat neatly underneath. When she finally pulled out the underwear, M found her voice.

“What are you doing?” She hissed, snatching the white cotton bra the teen held out of her hand.

“Making it look like you’re actually staying here!” She hissed back, snatching the article of clothing back.

“Why?” M demanded as she watched her dump the last few items in the top drawer of the chest of drawers.

“So,” She said, glancing up, “If they look for you, they’ll think you are staying here.”

“They’ll catch on when I don’t come back.” She pointed out, crossing her arms.

Taking the bag over to the still open wardrobe, Carmon dropped it down next to the shoes, “Doesn’t matter. By that time, Dad should be back and you’ll have proper protection.”

Frowning, M uncrossed her arms. “If we’re not staying here, then where are we staying?”

Carmon looked at her with a smirk, “You’re office.”

“It doesn’t have a bed.” The older woman bit out.

“No, but it has a couch.”

M sighed and looked at the ceiling, it wasn’t the worst plan in the world, and she couldn’t deny that the girl had a point in making it look like she was staying somewhere else, but she wished she had told her from the beginning. _‘Just like Bond.’_ She thought, looking back at the blonde who was swinging her bags back over her shoulders. She frowned as a thought occurred to her, “Tell me we’re not walking.”

Looking up at her slowly, Carmon licked her lips, “It’s not that far.”

“It’s at least ten blocks.” She ground out, “And may I once again point out my heels and my age.”

Biting down on her bottom lip, Carmon looked at the shoes in question. They were wedges, low ones, but still, not made for walking long distances in. Flicking her eyes up at the still glaring woman, she unzipped her own suitcase and pulled out a pair of flats and held them out for her, “Here, you can borrow these.”

Looking at the plain black slip ons, she sighed and took them, stepping out of her shoes as she did so. As she tugged them on, she thought of something else, “How are we getting out of here? There are camera’s in the front office.”

The guilty look came back. “The fire escape.”

“You must be joking.” She said, slowly straightening up.

Quickly picking up the discarded heels, Carmon slipped them into her case and zipped it up, “We can’t be seen leaving, especially with our bags.”

“I’m too old to be climbing down the fire escape.” M said crossly.

“It’s only one story, you’ll be fine.”

* * *

When the two finally entered into M’s large office, it was quite obvious that both of them were glad to finally sit down. They both put their bags in the far corner, although Carmon kept her satchel beside the sofa she and M were sitting on, and relaxed as much as they could.  


 “I’m never doing that again.” M moaned, resting her feet on the small table in front of them.

“What? Climbing down a fire escape, or walking the entire way here?” Carmon asked, closing her eyes.

M chuckled, “Both.”

Huffing a soft laugh, Carmon cracked open her eyes and watched her as she felt her stand up.

“I need a drink.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll pour me one, will you?”

“Not bloody likely.” M snorted.

Shrugging, Carmon turned back to face the wall, “Worth a try.”

Settling back down, she listened to the sounds of her pour a drink. It didn’t take long for her re-join her on the sofa, but by the time she did, she was already dozing off. It was the sound of the glass door clanging open that jolted her back to reality. Sitting up straight, she looked around to find Tanner standing there, surprise and confusion colouring his face.

“Ma’am? What are you doing here?”

Placing her glass on the table, M stood up and made her way over to the shocked man, “Well, it was pointed out that by hacking my own network, the perpetrator now knows where I live, so Carmon and I left the house and came here.”

“But your house is under constant surveillance ma’am.” He said, frowning, “No one would be able to get in.”

Looking behind her at the scoff, M rolled her eyes, “They managed to blow up HQ from my office, I’m not taking the chance that they can get into my house and kill either of us.”

“Us, ma’am?”

Carmon gasped, “Have you forgotten me already Mr Tanner?” She asked, mockingly placing her hand over her heart, “I’m hurt.”

“I-oh, Miss Bond. I didn’t see you there.”  He shifted uneasily, looking away from either woman.

Snorting, Carmon waved her hand dismissively over her shoulder, “It’s cool. Ignore me, I’m gonna try to sleep.” She said, twisting her body around so she sleep comfortably on the somewhat short couch. “I’m too old to do so much walking.” She peeked around the edge of the sofa and smirked at the glaring woman, “Or to climb down a fire escape.” She winked before rolling over and settling down.

Tanner looked from the couch to M, frowning in confusion, “Ma’am?”

M shook her head, “Ignore her Tanner; she’s just being a pain.”

“I resent that.”

Growling, M sneered at the back of her sofa, “Go to sleep already.” All she got was the young woman flipping her the bird. Sighing, she turned back to her chief of staff, “So what have you found out?”

* * *

Later that night, after most of her staff had gone home; M sat on the coffee table and looked at the sleeping girl. During her sleep, some of her hair had come lose from her braid and covered her face. Leaning forward, she gently tucked the strands behind her ear, sighing when she sat back. She looked so peaceful, so calm, young. Looking at the teenager, she suddenly felt old. Sighing again, she stood up and walked around the sofa to her desk.  


“Where do you think you’re going?”

Stopping at the soft voice, thick with sleep, she turned and looked at the now sitting up blonde, “To work.”

“You need to sleep.”

Turning fully now, she looked at the girl in amusement, “If you haven’t realized, there’s only one sofa, and you’ve already claimed it.”

Standing up with a soft moan, Carmon carefully made her way around the dark blue furniture and passed the stout woman, “Couch is all yours.”

Arching her brow, M watched her as she pulled open the glass door, “And where are you going?”

“Toilet, then to find something to eat.” She yawned, “Want anything?”

M shook her head, “No thank you.”

“Kay, back soon.” She mumbled before stumbling away.

Shaking her head once more, M turned to the sofa and sighed, she wasn’t going to get much sleep on the uncomfortable piece of furniture, that’s for sure.

* * *

When Carmon finally came back, she walked into the office expecting to find M sitting at her desk, typing away on her computer. What she found instead was one of the cutest things she had ever seen. M had curled up on half of the couch, arm tucked under the small pillow she rested her head on with her thin jacket covering her from her shoulders to her toes. Smiling, Carmon put the water bottles and fruit she carried on the small cabinet near the wall and quietly picked up her satchel. Making her way to the other side of the coffee table, she sat down and pulled out her art supplies and sketch book, as well as her phone. Clicking a few buttons, she made sure the shutter and flash were off before taking a quick picture of the sleeping woman, intending to show it to her father as soon as she could. Slipping her phone back in her bag, she pulled her book close to her and opened to a blank page. She needed to draw this. Picking up her pencil, she started sketching the outlines of the slumbering woman, looking up occasionally when she made a sound to check she was still asleep.  


It didn’t take her long to finish the drawing, the picture only requiring the barest of shading as it was a simple line drawing, so after she packed up, she found herself faced with the question of where to sleep.

“Cold hard floor, or the cold hard table.” She muttered under her breath, “Decisions, decisions.”

On the sofa, M sighed and wriggled further back into the cushions, “Shut up and lie down already.” She ordered, her eyes still closed.

When Carmon failed to do as she was told, M sighed and held up her arm, lifting her jacket up for her to slide on in beside her, “Get in.”

Mentally shrugging, Carmon slipped off her shoes and carefully laid down on next to woman. Forcing herself not to tense up anymore then she was when M lowered her arm over her waist, she swallowed around the lump in her throat. “The last time I slept on a couch with someone was when Maria was looking after me.” She admitted quietly, staring at the ceiling.

“Do you still speak to her?”

As she spoke, she slowly relaxed into warm embrace, “At least once a week. She likes to be kept up to date with everything that’s happening in my life.”

“She sounds like a lovely person.”

“Yeah, she is.” Carmon sighed, settling down fully. “Night M.”

“Good night Carmon.”

Lying on her side, held against the short woman behind her, Carmon smirked, “Hey M.”

“What?”

“Can I tell Tanner I slept with you in the morning?”

* * *

It took her a little while, but when Carmon finally found the showers, she sighed in relief. While her sleep was much more restful then she had originally thought it would be, sleeping in her jeans was not something she liked to do; especially when the person she shared the sofa with was a furnace. Pulling a face at the memory of waking up, half under the small woman, sweating up a storm, Carmon hung her bag on a hook, pausing when she noticed a neatly folded pile of clothes underneath a familiar pink robe she hadn’t seen since moving in with M. Scoffing in amusement, she grabbed her few toiletries, her robes and made her way to the showers.  


“Hello M.” She sang, startling the older woman into dropping something. Laughing when she heard a soft yelp followed by a muttered curse, she slipped into the other cubicle.

“Carmon? What are you doing here? In fact, what are you doing up?”

“I’m here to have a shower.” She explained, pulling her shirt over her head, “As for the reason I’m up, this weird lady slept on top of me and she was like a bloody furnace. I woke up sweating like a pig.”

“Weird lady!”

Carmon chuckled and turned on the taps. Testing the water with her hand, she quickly stepped under the cool water and started running her hand through her hair. Humming softly as she poured her shampoo into her hand, she quickly massaged it into her scalp. As she ran her soaped up hands through to the ends of her hair, she quietly started singing.

“ _It's supercalifragilisticexpialidocious_ __  
Even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious  
If you say it loud enough, you'll always sound precocious  
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”

In the stall next to her, M groaned. Smirking, she sang louder, making sure to be careful about not getting any of the suds in her mouth.

“ _Um diddle, diddle diddle, um diddle ay_ __  
Um diddle, diddle diddle, um diddle ay  
Um diddle, diddle diddle, um diddle ay  
Um diddle, diddle diddle, um diddle ay.”

“You’re doing this on purpose,” M huffed, “Aren’t you?”

Laughing, Carmon reached out for her conditioner, “What’s wrong M? Don’t like Julie Andrews?”

“I have nothing against the woman, but you singing at the top of your lungs this early is not something I can handle right now.”

Hearing the tiredness in the older woman’s voice, Carmon nodded to herself, “Very well, I won’t sing.”

“Thank you.”

She answered in a voice just as soft, “You’re welcome M.”

* * *

Not too long later, when Carmon was drying herself off, the older woman cursed under her breath.  


“Damn.”

Looking up, Carmon frowned, “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot my robe and my clothes.” She groused, slapping her hand against the thin wall between them.

Chuckling, Carmon eyed the pink satin robe she had hung up on the back of her door beside her black one. For a moment she considered not telling her she had picked it up, but considering everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, she decided not to push the woman any further. Wrapping her towel around her, she tugged it from its place and carefully hung it over the wall into the other cubicle, making sure to not drop it, in case it fell in some water.

“Here.” She waited until the soft material was tugged from her hand before dropping her arm.

“Thank you, Carmon.”

“No problem,” She hesitated for a second before continuing, “If you want, I can stay in here so you can get dressed, or I can grab your clothes for you.”

For several minutes, the older woman didn’t answer, worrying Carmon enough to call out to her. “M?”

A soft sigh, “That would be very kind of you dear, thank you.”

She wasn’t sure to what M was talking about, but when she didn’t hear the sound of her leaving her own cubicle, she figured she was waiting for her to grab her clothes from the bench. “Okay, just give me a second.” She muttered, quickly pulling on her own satin robe. Tying the sash tightly, she left the stall and padded to the bench, picking up the clothes and the small bag beside it. Turning around, she let a startled shriek and dropped the bag, while she clutched the clothes to her chest.

“Carmon? Is everything alright?”

Swallowing down her panic, Carmon called back to the older woman, never taking her eyes from the rapidly growing red faced man in front of her. “I’m fine; Mr Tanner startled me is all.”

“I-I apologize Miss Bond, I-I didn’t know you were here.” He stuttered, looking anywhere else but at the teen.

“It’s fine.” Smiling slightly, Carmon snatched up the fallen bag and walked back over to the showers, knocking on the only closed door. When it opened, she held out the clothes, the bag resting on top.

“Thank you.” M said quietly, her cheeks matching her robe.

Giving her a half smile, she glanced her over, her whole body freezing when she saw the dark black swirl on the inside of her right ankle. She couldn’t see it all, but from where she was standing, it looked like a… Eyes widening, she looked back up at the concerned blue eyes in front of her. How hadn’t she seen it the first night?

“Holy shit.”

“Carmon?”

“Holy shit.” She repeated, looking back down at the elegant J that rested on her pale skin.

Seeing where she was looking, M tensed, “Carmon, I ca-”

“Does anyone know you have-”

“No.”

She smiled widely at the shorter woman, “Cool.”

The two were brought from their quiet conversation by Tanner clearing his throat. “Uh, ma’am?”

Sighing, M rolled her eyes while Carmon ducked back into her cubicle get dressed herself, “Yes Tanner?”

“Bond’s on his way back.”

* * *

M found herself unable to really focus on her work for the rest of the day. Bond was on his way back with the man responsible for all the destruction and death around her, she should be over the moon from that, but she wasn’t. Something wasn’t sitting right with her.  _‘Why did he give up so easily?_ ’ She thought, absentmindedly looking at the teen seated on the table.  _‘What?’_ Shaking her head, she focused on her with a frown.  


“Carmon.” She called, making sure not to let any emotion slip into her voice.

Looking up from her book, she hummed, “Hmm?”

“Why are you sitting on the table?”

Carmon tilted her head to the side, her long hair slipping easily over her shoulder as she considered her answer, “So you can’t look over my shoulder and see what I’m doing.”

Narrowing her eyes, M glanced at the now closed book resting in her lap, “And what exactly, were you doing?” She asked slowly.

Smiling, Carmon packed her book and pens away, “Nothing.” She chimed innocently, standing up, “I’m going to get something to eat. Want anything?”

Eyeing the teen, she slowly shook her head.

“Okay then.” She beamed, slipping her bag over her shoulder, “Be back soon.”

M watched her go. Since that morning, she had relaxed, for lack of better word, around her. It was as though she had finally broken through the wall the teen had put up, if only she knew what it was that she had done. Sighing, she ran her hand through her white locks and turned back to her computer. It was time to work.

* * *

Looking at the woman who was focused on her computer screen through the glass of the door, Carmon took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Entering the office, the silver traveling mug she held in her hand was quickly placed on the desk in front of the busy woman as she walked passed.  


“What’s this?” M asked, glancing at the cup.

“Coffee.”

Immediately she snatched up the mug and brought it to her lips, “Thank you dear.”

“You’re welcome.” Carmon said, dropping into the corner of the sofa with her bag beside her.

“I was beginning to think you’d wondered off with how long you-”

Carmon flinched at the abrupt ending, knowing she had finally looked up from whatever she was doing. Slowly turning around, she forced a smile at the frozen woman. Self-consciously, she pulled her ponytail over her shoulder and started fiddling with it. “Like it?”

Eyeing the now dark brown hair critically, M held back the smile that wanted to break free at the sight of the anxious teen, “Your father won’t.” She said, leaning back in her chair.

For a moment, Carmon stopped fiddling nervously with her newly dyed hair and looked at M. If she was honest with herself, her father’s reaction wouldn’t bother her much, but this woman’s opinion mattered to her. Of course, she was a Bond, so she wasn’t honest with herself. Forcing a smile, she dropped her hair and sat up straighter, trying to appear confident and unconcerned.

“Good.”

Arching her eyebrow slightly in amusement, M sat back up and turned back to her work. From the corner of her eye, she saw Carmon sigh, her shoulders dropping, and turn back to face the wall. Smiling, she reached out for her mug of coffee, “It suits you.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Last Rats Standing**

* * *

Later that afternoon, just as everyone started packing up to leave to go home, M and Carmon sat together on the sofa, M reading over one of the many files she had been given earlier, and Carmon, well, she was doing what she usually did.

“Will you stop looking at me.” M grumbled, turning to the next page of her report, “It is very distracting.”

“So is sitting next to a beautiful woman.” Carmon shot back as she shaded in the miniature folder in her sketch.

“Don’t try to charm her Carmon, it won’t work. I’ve tried.”

Both woman turned around and looked at the blonde man, standing casually in front of M’s desk, dressed in nothing but his dress pants and white shirt.

“Of that, I doubt.” Carmon drawled, enjoying the slight glare she received from her father and minute look of confusion from the woman beside her.

“Double-O Seven, so good of you to return.” M said coolly as she rounded the sofa.

“With you here, how could I stay away?”

Watching the two closely, Carmon shook her head and stood up as well, slipping her journal into her bag along with her small case of charcoal. Walking around the sofa, she stopped a few feet in front of her father with a smirk, “Bring me anything?”

Arching his brow, James looked from the ice blue eyes to the dark brown hair, “What did you do?” He drawled, looking back at her blankly.

Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she smiled innocently, “Like it?”

“It looks…lovely.”

“You hate it.”

“Immensely.”

Smirking, Carmon sent a wink to M, “Good.” She adjusted the strap of her bag and turned to M, “I’ll leave you to it then,” She looked at the empty mug next to the pushed aside keyboard, “Coffee?”

Smiling slight up at the teen, she nodded, “Thank you dear.”

Picking it up, the newly brunette left the office without another word.

“Did you even try to stop her?” Bond asked, watching his daughter walking through the semi-empty floor below.

Organising the papers on her desk, M didn’t even bother to look up, “I’m not her mother Bond.”

Still watching his daughter, Bond sighed, “Fat lot of help you were then.” He mumbled, before turning his attention back to the seated woman. “Ma’am.”

* * *

An hour later, Carmon knocked on the glass door and waited for M to wave her in. Being careful not to drop to the mugs she had balanced in her hand, she pulled open the door and walked in, pausing only to hand M and her father the mugs she carried before making her way back over to the sofa. Even with her headphones in, she heard M ask.

“Did you get anything for yourself?”

Reaching into her ever present satchel, she pulled out a small bottle of Ice Tea.

“What, no food?” M asked in mock disbelief.

Smirking, Carmon paused and slowly turned to face her, making sure none of her amusement was visible when she faced the woman. Locking eyes with M, who’s brow was arched, she made a show of opening her bag and pulling out a packet of M&M’s.

“That is not suitable for a growing body.” M admonished with a frown, “Come, we’ll head back to the house for a proper meal.”

Shrugging, Carmon dumped the junk food she had grabbed from a vending machine back into her bag and removed her headphones. “I hope we’re taking the car.”

Looking up from where she was stacking folders, M smirked, “Why? It’s only a couple of blocks.” 

Glaring at the short woman, she dropped her MP3 into her bag, “Bitch.”

M laughed, “Almost a week; that must be a record.”

Rolling her eyes, but unable to stop the smile from break through, Carmon walked over to where they had put their bags. As she picked up her small case, she looked over her shoulder to her father and glared. “Are you going to help me or not?”

Rolling his eyes much like she had done before, James got up and helped his daughter, taking his own small bag and the second case in hand. Looking at Carmon, he arched his brow in silent question.

“He hacked into her personal network. I figured if he did that, he knew where she lived,” She whispered, glancing over her shoulder, “I wasn’t going to just let her be a target, so I made her pack and left.”

“If you two are done with your whispering, let’s go.”

Snapping to attention, father and daughter turned to look at the glaring woman, faces blank.

“Well?”

“Yes Ma’am.” They chanted in unison.

Cool blue eyes narrowed even further, “Uh-huh.” Turning from them, she walked out of her office, folders in hand.

Walking after her, James and Carmon shared a look.

* * *

After a somewhat tense dinner at the dining table, the three moved to the living room, M sitting at her desk to finish reading the reports she had brought with her, while the two Bonds sat together on the sofa, each with their own journal propped open on their knees. From the occasional glance up, M can tell that Carmon is working on yet another drawing, but James, he was writing something. Besides from dinner, that was James had done since arriving, leaning over his journal. And although she would never admit to it, M was extremely curious about what it was he put in there.

_‘I thought Carmon said he doesn’t write.’_ M thought, watching the man unobtrusively as he passed the journal to Carmon. Still pretending to read from the sheet in her hand, she watched as Carmon leant against her father, reading whatever it was he wrote. When she noticed the teen holding back tears, she gave up all pretence and looked at them openly, _‘What did he write?’_

Ignoring his boss, James wrapped his arm around his daughter and held her against his side tightly. Kissing her lightly on her temple, he sighed, “Where’d you put my clothes?”

“In my room.” She said, turned back several pages to read the small passage on the page before. It was her favourite, as was the sketch beside it.

“Where’s that?”

Scoffing, Carmon looked up at him, “Are you telling me you don’t know your way around the house?”

“Why would I?”

“Because you’re a spy.” Carmon said, putting the journal on the table, “Come on, I’ll show you.”

Standing up, James followed his daughter, “Just because I’m a spy, doesn’t mean I know about boundaries. I respect privacy.”

“And breaking into your bosses house is respecting her privacy.” Carmon asked, arching her brow over her shoulder as she led him up the stairs.

“Well I didn’t go snooping through her drawers if that’s what you’re asking.” He grumbled before disappearing upstairs.

Sitting at her desk, M flushed at the image of James rummaging through her underwear drawer, picking up the racier items that she had bought on a whim. She squirmed as her stomach became alive with butterflies. Clearing her throat she picked up the papers she had dropped and sat up straight. She refused to think about why the thought caused a fluttering that had nothing to do with anger.

Ten minutes later, she found herself unable to concentrate on what was left of the report. Deciding it could wait for a while longer; she stood up, intent on making herself a soothing cup of tea. But as she stood, her eyes fell to the small coffee table, more specifically, on the open journal. Before she knew it, she was standing in front of it, looking down at the two sketches. She knew she shouldn’t, it was an invasion of privacy, but after checking to make sure she could still hear the murmurings of the two Bonds upstairs, she sat down and pulled the journal into her lap.

She recognised the sketches on the page as the scene Bond had described to her earlier. Although the people where just silhouettes, she knew it was him tied to a chair, while Silva walked through the main arch on the other page. She had to admit, he could draw. Flipping to the front of the book, she slowly turned page after page, surprised when sketches of herself popped up every so often. Passing the sketches she assumed where from his three months of death, she turned the page, gasping quietly when she saw a very detailed portrait of herself.

In it, her hair was longer, though not by much, so she assumed it was from before the hard-drive went missing. Eyeing it, she guessed from the outfit she was wearing, it was from the fiasco with Quantum. She hadn’t worn that jacket since then. She had lost too much weight from worry for it to fit properly. Shaking her head, she looked on the other page, surprised to see a small passage of writing resting in the middle of the page.

 _‘She’s beautiful, but not like those girls from my missions._  
She’s beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talks about something she loves.  
She’s beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she’s sad.  
No, she’s not beautiful for something as temporary as her looks.  
She’s beautiful, deep down to her soul.  
She’s beautiful.’*

Frowning slightly, she glanced between the sketch and passage, only realizing she was no longer alone when Carmon spoke up from behind her.

“You should read the next one.”

Looking up behind her guiltily, she opened her mouth to apologize or to explain, she wasn’t sure which, but the girl shook her head and pointed to the journal she still held. “Turn the page M.”

Swallowing thickly, she did as told and turned the page, her eyes tearing up as she softly read the page full of writing aloud.

“The answer is yes, always yes. I cannot deny you anything you ask. I will not let you bear the agony of not knowing. (Not again.)

Yes I love you, I swear it. On every grain of salt in the ocean -- on all my tears. I found you when I reached the seventh sea, just as I had stopped looking.

It seems a lifetime ago that I began searching for you.

A lifetime of pain and sorrow. Of disappointment and missed opportunities.

All I had hoped for. All the things I can never get back. When I am with you, I want for nothing.” _**_

* * *

It was just as she was heading back to M’s house after having looked at yet another apartment that Carmon heard her cell ring. That in itself wasn’t unusual, she did have friends who occasionally called, as well as Maria, but it was the ringtone that caused her heart to stop, and then start up again as if she had just run a marathon. It was her fathers. He only rang in an emergency. Ripping open her bag, she searched until her hand clamped around the old phone and yanked it out, all but crushing the small button as she answered it.

“What’s wrong?”

_“He’s escaped. Get to M. Failing that, get to the storage unit.”_

That was all he said before hanging up, no doubt already chasing after Silva. Growling, she chucked her phone back into her bag and started off down the street. Boy was she glad that M had told her where the inquiry was happening now.

As she ran down the streets as fast as her legs would allow her too, Carmon decided that the moment everything was sorted out, she was going to join a gym. If living in London on a permanent bases was going to be like this, she really needed to get into shape. She cursed as she ducked in between the cars, she was only a block away.

Just as she was about to round the corner, a police car drove passed, leaving the area. Confused, she turned to watch it. It seemed to drive passed in slow motion. Her blue eyes locked with the blonde man in the seat. Instantly she recognised him as the man after M, her father having shown her a picture the night before. Her hand twitched towards her bag, but by the time she had it open, he was gone, disappearing into the sea of cars. Growling, she spun around and ran, spotting her father hoping into the front seat of a car. Frowning, she pushed herself harder.

_‘Surely he’s not going to chase after him!’_

As she got closer, she noticed the number plate and couldn’t help but smirk. Slipping in the passenger seat, she turned to her father and arched a brow. “Are we kidnapping the head of MI6?”

“Yes.”

“Cool.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth, the back door open and in fell M. She barely had time to close the door before James pulled out and sped around the corner. Barely holding back a laugh as the shorter woman fell back in her seat at the force, she looked out the window.

“James what the hell are we doing?” She asked, not even sounding surprised, “Are you kidnapping me?”

“That’s what I said.” Carmon said, turning to face her, “Are you hurt?” She asked as she looked her over, not seeing any obvious signs of being shot.

M shook her head. No she wasn’t hurt. “Too many people are dying because of me.”

Neither Bond knew how to respond to that, but that didn’t stop Carmon from voicing her thoughts in her typical fashion. Sarcasm.

“She thinks she’s the bloody Queen, doesn’t she.” She hissed to her father, ignoring the glare being shot her way, “It’s all _me me me_. God forbid she realize that it’s actually a mad man killing everyone. Christ, I don’t know how you put up with her all these years.”

In the back seat, M huffed, crossing her arms, “Fine. So it’s not _all_ because of me.”

Smirking, Carmon turned to the front, allowing her father to take the lead.

“If he wants you, he’s gonna have to come and get you. We’ve been one step behind Silva from the start. It’s time to get out in front, beat him at his own game.”

“And I’m to be the bait?” She asked, tilting her said as if she already knew the answer. “Alright. Just us, no one else.”

Carmon shook her head at the pair, but kept her mouth shut. Now was not the time.

“Q, I need help. I’ve got M; we’re about to disappear.”

Even though she couldn’t hear what the other man was saying, she could tell he was surprised.

“I need you to lay a trail of breadcrumbs that’s impossible for anyone to follow except Silva. Think you can do it?”

Carmon watched as her father smirked and glanced in the review mirror.

“Not even remotely.”

Only a few more words were exchanged before he ended the call.

“Where are we going?” Carmon asked, looking out the window.

“We need to collect a few things before we leave.”

Blue eyes widened, “We can’t go back there, he knows where she lives!”

James shook his head as he turned down M’s street. “He won’t be there. Not so soon after attacking. He needs to regroup first.”

Thinking it over for a second, Carmon tilted her head in agreement, “M and I will get the gear.” When her father opened his mouth to argue, she shook her head, “I doubt she’ll want you going through her drawers, plus, our gears done, so it’ll be quicker if I help.”

He couldn’t find a flaw in her thinking, so he nodded his head as he pulled up in front of the house. “Fine.”

Smiling, Carmon jumped out of the car, “Come on M.”

“M,” James looked in the mirror, catching her eyes, “Grab your gun.”

* * *

Having been told that the second location was the storage unit, Carmon was able to figure out that they were going to change cars. She suspected that M had as well, and the griping was just for show.

“I’m not hiding in there if that’s your brilliant plan.”

She had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing at the exasperated answer her father gave.

“We’re changing cars.”

The moment the door open, James and Carmon were in the shed, leaving M standing outside with her coat held closed and bag over her shoulder.

“I suppose that’s completely inconspicuous.” She bit out, the words dripping in sarcasm.

Looking over the hood of the Ashton, Carmon couldn’t help but smile as her father just pointed to the car and ordered, “Get in.”

Laughing, Carmon slipped into the back seat, chucking the bags she carried up against the door. “Get a blanket will you.” She said, looking up at her father.

Rolling his eyes, James rummaged through some of the open boxes until he pulled out a thick blanket. Chucking it into the back seat, he smirked when it hit her in the face.

“See what I put up with M?”

All she got was an arched brow as if to say, _don’t even start_.

Sighing, she slumped back in her seat. “Fat lot of help you are.”

After that, they drove in silence, but even that didn’t last for long. It seemed M was in rare form and couldn’t help bit pick on everything.

“It’s not very comfortable, is it.”

“The back’s not much better.” Carmon said, having lain down across the small space, her head resting on the pile of bags.

“Then why sit in it?” M asked, turning around to face her.

“I said it’s not much better, but it’s still better than the front is.”

M scoffed, “So you give to the old lady.”

“Thought you’d enjoy the view.”

“Well aren’t you kind.”

Flicking his thumb over the top of the gear shift, James revealed a small red button, “Are you two going to be like this the whole way?”

Looking at it, she couldn’t help but scoff, “Go on then, eject me.”

Sighing, James covered the button and turned back to the road, ignoring the soft snickering coming from the back.

“Where are we going?”

James hesitated in answering, “Back in time, somewhere we’ll have the advantage.”

Shooting up, Carmon looked at her father’s reflection in the small review mirror. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“It’s the only place we’ve got.”

Her response surprised M. Not the answer itself, but the tone. Usually the girl spoke sarcastically, or even angrily, but this one lacked any kind of emotion.

“That in its self should tell you we shouldn’t go there.”

* * *

Two hours later, M looked in the back seat to find Carmon sleeping, wrapped up in the blanket. Sighing, she turned to the front, eyeing the small drops of rain on the windshield.

“If you’re tired you should sleep.”

M bit back her initial response, not wanting to push the man risking his life for her any further, “I don’t think I could even if I tried.”

“Too uncomfortable?”

She shook her head, “Too cold.”

Without saying a word, James turned the radiator up. He knew it wouldn’t do much, but at least it was something. Smiling slightly, M settled back further into the seat, trying to find a comfortable position.

* * *

The sudden stop jerked M awake. Looking around her, she let out a sigh of relief when she realized they had stopped at a fuel station. Shaking her head to clear it of the lingering fog of sleep, she glanced in the back seat, not surprised to see that Carmon was still asleep in the small space.  _‘How?’_ She thought as she watched the teen roll over onto her back with a sigh,  _‘She’s going to wake up in the worst pain.’_

Eyes still closed, the teen spoke in a thick voice, “M.”

“Yes?”

“Stop staring.” 

She turned away, her cheeks flushing from something other than the cold. “Sorry.”

After some time, the girl let out a deep sigh and sat up, rubbing her eyes, “Where are we?”

“I don’t know.” M answered quietly as she pulled her coat around her tighter.

From the back, Carmon could see that the smaller woman was shivering, “Are you cold?” She asked as she pulled the blanket over her lap.

M hesitated, but answered anyway, “A bit.”

Pursing her lips, Carmon looked around her for a second, trying to find something that could be used to keep her warm. _‘Should have grabbed two blankets dad!’_ She thought as she found nothing. Looking up, she saw the older woman cover her mouth as she yawned, “Have you slept?”

She shook her head, “Not much.”

Sighing, Carmon slipped further over on the back seat, “Hop in the back with me.”

“What?” M turned around, looking surprised at the soft order.

“Hop in the back, we’ll share the blanket. At least you’ll be warm.”

For a moment, she seemed to hesitate, but as she felt her body start shaking even more from the cold, she pushed open the door and hopped out. As quick as she could, she opened the back and slid in, under the blanket Carmon held up for her, and shut the door. The moment she felt the extra warmth from the body next to her, she shivered even more. Closing her eyes, she waited for her body to become accustomed to the heat. Seconds later, she felt herself being pulled to the right by a strong arm around her shoulder. Eyes wide open, she craned her neck to look up at the teen who held her securely to her side.

“What are you doing?” She asked, even as she huddled closer.

“Keeping you warm.” She arched her brow at the demure woman, “Plus, my shoulder has to be more comfortable then the door.”

Turning slightly, M eyed the door, “I can’t argue with that.” She sighed, turning back to face the girl, “Are you going to be able to sleep like this?”

Chuckling softly, Carmon gave the small woman a slight squeeze, “I just slept for,” She checked her watch, “Two hours, I’ll be fine for now.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, settling down against the brunette.

“Go to sleep M.”

Nodding slightly, M sighed and allowed herself to relax. A few minutes passed before M spoke again.

“Carmon.”

“Mmm?”

“Can I tell your father I slept with you in the morning?”

Huffing out a small laugh, Carmon pulled the smaller woman closer to her side, “Go to sleep M.”

* * *

Not long later they were back on the road with the front seat piled with food and water and M fast asleep against Carmon. James had bought them all hot drinks while paying for the fuel, but when he noticed that M was finally sleeping peacefully in the back seat, he gave it to the young man who pulled in alongside them before passing Carmon hers.  Neither of them spoke for fear of waking the slumbering woman. They drank from the small cardboard cups, occasionally locking eyes in the mirror. They could tell the other was scared. Scared about what was going to happen; what might happen to M, but neither knew what to say to comfort the other, as they both knew that all three of them were running the risk of dying with this plan. So instead, Carmon tried to relax and go back to sleep while her father continued on driving.

* * *

Carmon wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep for, but when she woke up, she could tell it had been at least an hour. They were in the middle of nowhere. Well, from what little she could see with the high beams on, she could tell they were on some empty road. Stretching as much as she could, she quietly apologized as M grumbled about being woken up.

“Christ, I’m stiff as a board.” She muttered, sitting up with the blanket held tightly around her chin.

It had only gotten colder the further they drove, so it was no wonder the smaller woman started shaking almost immediately when she sat up. Sighing, Carmon tried to stretch out her legs like M was, only she couldn’t quite manage it in the small spacing. Growling, she twisted to face M, forcing her leg up and onto the seat between them. “Scootch forward.”

“What?”

“Move forward on the seat, I need to stretch my leg.”

Frowning, M did as she was told, watching as the teen slid her leg out as far as she could behind her with a sigh of relief. Her frown deepened when she noticed her settling down as if to go back to sleep. “What are you doing?” She demanded to know.

Without opening her eyes, Carmon reached out for her hand, blindly searching for it as she explained, “We’re going back to sleep.” She answered sharply, “This way, we’ll be able to stretch out some.”

For a second, M considered arguing, but she knew she was tired, and to be honest, sitting up with her back exposed, she was starting to really feel the cold again. So, with a sigh, she allowed the girl to pull her down until she was lying half on top of her. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, what with her legs mostly hanging off the seat, but her back sure felt better. Twisting slightly, she slid her right arm through the gap of the girls back and the bags she was leaning against while said teen adjusted the thick blanket to cover her. Sighing once more as she felt herself begin to fall back asleep, she whispered a soft ‘ _Thank you’_.

“Just don’t get any ideas.”

Even with her eyes closed, M knew the girl was smirking. The last thing she heard before sleep claimed her once more was the quiet snort of her agent in the front seat and his daughter asking if he was okay.

* * *

The next time Carmon opened her eyes, it was daylight and they were no longer on the move. Stretching with a soft groan as she felt her back pop, she sat up and looked around, spotting her father and M standing not too far in front of the car, looking out over the misty hills. Pushing aside the blanket that had fallen to her lap, she opened the door and stepped out, glad she had worn her knee high boots when she felt how cold it was outside.

“Is this where you grew up?”

Looking up at the soft question, Carmon watched the back of her father and his boss for a moment, waiting to see if he would answer the question. She wasn’t all that surprised when the most she got was a soft grunt. However, the small smile she had slowly fell away at the next question the short woman asked.

“How old were you when they died?”

She knew the answer to that. Her _reports_ told her that.

“You know the answer to that,” James said, his voice devoid of all emotion, “You know the whole story.”

M turned to look at him sharply, “Do I?”

Before she knew what she was doing, Carmon marched over to them and grabbed hold of M’s arm, pulling her back with a strength that surprised the older woman. “No, you don’t.” She hissed as she pulled the stumbling Head back to the car, “You know nothing.” Forcing the woman into the car, she slammed the door shut, “For once in your life M, stop being such a bitch.” She spat before turning to face her father, who stood watching her with a raised brow.

For a moment, they were both still, staring at each other, but then James calmly walked up to her and pulled her into a tight hug. Immediately Carmon wrapped her arms around him and buried her head into the space of his shoulder and neck, breathing deeply. From inside the car, M watched them, eyes wide. She had never seen Bond so openly display affection before. _‘Then again, besides when he breaks into your house, when do you see him outside of work?’_ She mentally berated herself. _‘Carmon was right, I don’t look passed the façade of being a double-O.’_

Pulling back, James kissed her on her forehead lightly, “Better?”

Nodding, Carmon sighed, “Yes.” Looking up, she eyed her father closely, noting the dark bags under his eyes, “Are you okay to continue driving?”

“I’ll be fine.”

Narrowing her own ice blue eyes, she hesitated before replying, “You’ll sleep when we get there.”

Arching his brow, James gave a single nod before walking around the car, looking up at the dark clouds over head, “Storms coming.”

Smirking slightly at her father, Carmon slipped into the car, “I don’t doubt it.”

* * *

After a while of sitting tensely in the front seat, stoically staring straight ahead, lost in her angry thoughts, Carmon finally let out a long, heavy sigh and relaxed. Beside her, her father glanced at her, relaxing slightly himself. Behind them, the short woman watched them, not speaking for fear of starting a fight with the teenage girl. She could feel the anger rolling of her in waves, could see it in the tense set of her shoulders. When she relaxed, she couldn’t help but let out her own breath of relief. Turning to stare out the window, she missed Bond glancing into the mirror at her. Now that she wasn’t worrying about Carmon flying off the handle at her, her thoughts turned to the memory of James hugging Carmon. She couldn’t quite connect the image of Bond, the womanizer, with James, the carrying father.

_‘I wish I knew that side of him.’_ She mentally scoffed at the idea, _‘I’ll probably be buried this time next week.’_

Sighing, she let her thoughts drift away, leaving her mind blank, taking nothing in.

Carmon in turn, turned her attention to the bag that was resting next to the silent woman. Looking at her, she knew she wouldn’t get any response from her from the absent look on her face, so checking that there were no turns coming up, she unlatched her belt and leant over the seat and grabbed her back. Being careful to not let anything fall from the worn bag, she sat back down and tucked her leg under her. Clipping the belt back up, she pulled out her journal and the darkest pencil she had. It wasn’t the best thing to do while driving, but she needed to turn her attention away from what she had woken too. Unfortunately, it was all she could think about. She may no longer be angry, but she couldn’t get the image of her father and M, standing together, looking at the rolling hills of Scotland out of her head. So, putting pencil to paper, she carefully started drawing.

* * *

Of course Carmon had seen pictures of the house before, but nothing could have prepared her for how…devoid it was. Not even the stories her father told really captured the coldness that had nothing to do with the weather. It seems she wasn’t the only one to notice.

“Christ.” 

Carmon silently agreed with the older woman as she left the car.

“No wonder you never came back.”

Looking around the barren land around them, Carmon leant on the roof of the car, “If this dump survives this mission, can we blow it up?”

All she got was a noncommittal grunt as he walked inside.

M scoffed, stepping up beside the young woman, “Your father’s involved, of course the house won’t survive what’s coming.” 

“Do you really think so little of him?” Carmon asked quietly, “After everything he’s done for you, do you really think he goes around and blows up things willy-nilly just to spite you?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.”

Looking down at the shorter woman, Carmon pursed her lips, “Even after what you saw?”

“Even now.”

She let out a humourless laugh, cutting it off quickly when she slammed the door shut, her bag over her shoulder, “Maybe you should ask him _why_ those buildings were blown up and not assume he did it.”

“Are you telling me,” M said, stepping in front of the teen, “That Bond isn’t responsible for most of the explosions on his missions, and that he’s failed to inform me of that.”

Looking her in the eye, Carmon spoke nothing but the truth, “You never asked him and when he tries to tell you, you kick him out after giving him a dressing down.” She huffed, “What you don’t realize M, is that most of the things that go wrong aren’t because he goes off by himself, but because of the people he’s after. They will kill him without a second thought, and in that split second that means life or death, he will dump whatever he’s doing and get out of there. He knows he can always go back and finish the job and fix a mistake, but he can’t if he’s dead.” She spoke before walking passed the frozen woman.

Standing by herself beside the parked Ashton, M thought about what the brunette said. She went over every mission debriefing she had had with Bond, and in everyone one, she found that she had not asked why things that shouldn’t have happened, happened. _‘Christ, maybe I shouldn’t be in charge anymore.’_ Sighing, she turned around and walked inside, not looking at the girl who stood beside the door, holding it open for her.

Walking side by side, they found James standing in the dining room with a rifle pointed at him. Neither woman reacted, knowing the man could handle himself, but a quick glance up at Carmon told M that the girl knew the bearded man holding the weapon at her father. And she didn’t like him.

“You’re still alive.”

To M it sounded like Bond was disappointed, but from the warm smile the older man had on, she knew he hadn’t noticed.

“Nice to see you too.”

Walking up to them confidently, M smiled as James introduced her.

“M, this is Kincade, the gamekeeper of Skyfall since I was a boy.”

“Pleased to meet you Emma.” He bellowed happily, shaking her hand loosely.

As she shook his hand, she glanced up at Bond, noting the flash of anger in his usually empty blue eyes and missing the quick once over the older man gave her, “Mr Kincade.”

Still smiling, Kincade turned to Carmon, “And who are you my dear?”

“Carmon.” She declared, holding her hand out sharply.

“Are you James’ daughter?” He asked as he absentmindedly rubbed his sore hand.

“No, Emma’s.”

M fought hard not to react to lie.

“Oh.”

This time it was Kincade who sounded disappointed.

“Tell me something Mr Kincade,” Carmon started coldly, only to be cut off by her father.

“Now is not the time Carmon,” He spoke decisively, “Your mothers safety comes first.”

 Pursing her lips, Carmon gave a sharp nod. Still watching the older man, she stepped closer to M and looped her arm through hers, gripping it tightly as the old Scotsman turned to her father.

“What are you doing here James?”

“Some men are coming to kill us,” He said bluntly, “We’re going to kill them first.”

* * *

Looking at the gun in his hand, James couldn’t help but sneer at the initials carved into it. Behind him, Carmon held on even tighter to M’s arm as bearded man spoke.

“We couldn’t let that go, could we.”

“This is all we’ve got?” M sighed, looking at the table that held two rifles and James handgun. Both she and Carmon had decided to keep theirs hidden from the old man.

“Might be a couple of sticks of dynamite from the quarry.” He shrugged.

M frowned. Her already slim chances of surviving were dwindling.

“If all else fails,” Kincade continued, pulling his hunting knife from his belt, “Sometimes the old ways, are best ways.”

“How good are you with a knife?” Carmon asked quietly, barely turning to face her ‘mother’.

“Better than I am with a gun.”

Frowning, Carmon turned to face her, speaking seriously, “Will you be able to shoot?”

“Shoot, yes. Hit the target, debatable.”

“Oh Christ.” The teen moaned, “We’re gonna die.”

“Oh thanks for having faith in me.”

“How can you not shoot?” Carmon hissed back at the sarcastic remark, “You’re MI-bloody-6!”

“I worked with explosives, not firearms!”

Carmon snorted, “I’m sure there’s some irony in there somewhere.” Turning back to face the men, she found them watching her and M closely, “Yes?”

“We should start getting ready.” James said, picking up the hand gun and clips, “Here.” He thrust it into Carmons hand, “Just in case,” He said, glancing down at her bag resting against her hip.

Nodding, Carmon took it and the three extra clips held out to her, “Come on Mum, time to get dressed for the party.” Turning round, she re-looped her arm through M’s and guided her back outside to the car.

Behind her, Kincade arched his bushy brow, “She’s got a tongue on her, that young one.”

“Mm, she gets it from her mother.”

* * *

Out at the car, Carmon was digging through her bag to find the extra pair of boots she packed.

“What’s wrong with what I have on?”

Rolling her eyes, Carmon pulled out her leather jacket, “What you have on is not going to keep you warm, nor is it that helpful if you have to run for your life.”

“I’ve already run for my life in this.” M huffed, folding her arms over her chest.

Pulling herself from the car, Carmon looked at the short woman, “In London. We are now in Scotland, and you may need to run across this,” She said, waving her hand over the grounds. Shaking her head, she turned back to the car and pulled out the small bag M had packed. “Just, go and get changed M. Please.”

Sighing, M took the bag held out to her and slung it over her shoulder, “What about you?” She asked, staring at her bare arms.

Hand finally running over the soft leather of her boots, Carmon latched onto them and yanked them out, not caring that some of her clothes fell on to the seat, “Besides putting on a jacket, I’m good to go. You on the other hand, need different shoes.”

“I didn’t pack any.” She admitted.

“I know,” The teen stood up, closing the door once more, “That’s why I bought these.” She said, holding up a pair of worn boots just like the ones she had on.

“I don’t have socks.”

Smirking, Carmon pulled out a pair of black socks from one of the boots.

“I hate you.”

Laughing, Carmon walked to the house, “I love you too M.”

* * *

Hours later, after most of the preparations had been completed; Carmon sat on one of the covered sofa’s with her journal open in her lap. Occasionally, she looked up at her father who hadn’t moved since taking up position in front of the window to keep watch. When he started reciting, she looked up quickly, her eyes filling with tears.

“I feel the end is drawing near, would time be so kind to slow?  
You are everything to me, my dear, you are all I really know.”

As he spoke, her sharpened charcoal pencil flew across the page with practiced ease, only pausing when she saw movement from the corner of her. Glancing up, she saw M, standing just in the door way, looking at James with an unreadable expression.

“But as I sit and wait and fear and watch the hours go –  
Everything that happened here happened long ago.” _***_

The second he was done, M turned to her, looking at her for a second before turning away and going back to the table. Slowly looking away from the doorway, Carmon closed her book and stood up, her bag back over her shoulder.

“How did you know?”

Stopping at the quiet question, Carmon studied her father, formulating her answer carefully as she stood in the doorway. Turning to face the woman who had her back to her, she spoke, “It was the way you spoke about her.” She smiled slightly, watching as the older woman deftly broke one of the many light-bulbs she had taken down, “With animosity, regret, disdain and underneath it all, just a hint of pride.” _****_

When James said nothing in return, she walked around the long table and sat directly across from the woman, setting her journal down in front of her and her bag next to her. Opening to a new page, she pulled out her favourite blue pen and started drawing. Across from her, M looked up, but when she saw the sketch book, she turned back to her work, leaving the teen be until she’s ready to talk. Oddly enough, it wasn’t that long before she closed the book and tucked it away in her satchel.

“Why do you draw so much?” She asked quietly as Carmon pulled some of the bags of nails and screws and cartridges towards her.

Hesitating for a second, the teen stared at the objects in front of her, “It helps me focus.”

For a while, M stared at her until it finally sunk in. Smiling slightly at the girl when she looked up from the table, she returned to breaking the light-bulbs. From then on, the pair worked in silence until every light was returned to their place in the chandeliers.

* * *

Later on, James walked into the room to find Carmon and M sitting down eating some bland looking sandwiches. Looking at the small pile on the plate in between the two women, he wished he had grabbed more than just peanut butter and a few jars of jam. But as Carmon pushed the plate towards him, he pulled out the chair beside his boss and took one, biting into the thick peanut paste with a grimace as he placed his father’s rifle beside him on the table. Smirking in amusement, Carmon shared a quick look with M before turning back to her own  _dinner_ .

As the trio ate in silence, none of them quite sure what to say given the situation they were in, but both M and Carmon watched Bond, occasionally glancing at the other to see if they saw what they saw. M wanted to speak up, order Bond to get some rest, but she knew , she just _knew_ he wouldn’t because it came from her. Mentally sighing, she finished off her own peanut butter sandwich. Across from her, Carmon saw the minute droop of the older woman’s shoulders. Rolling her eyes, she turned to her father and spoke around the mouthful of food.

“You need to rest. You look like shit.”

Shocked by the bluntness, M choked on her food. She really shouldn’t have been, not after spending so much time with her in closed quarters, but it did. The two Bonds watched her, waiting to see if she was okay, only continuing with their conversation when she waved her hand dismissively.

“I’m fine.”

Turning back to his daughter hesitantly, James argued that he had to keep watch.

“Mum and I can do it for a few hours.” Carmon said shaking her head. When he opened his mouth to continue arguing, she sat up straighter and gave him a look that rivalled M’s. “Go rest. You’re no help to her if you’re asleep on your feet when Silva gets here.”

For a few tense moments, the two stared at each other as if waiting for the best moment to strike. But to the great surprise of M, James sighed and slumped back in his seat, his hand running down the side of his face.

“Fine. But wake me immediately if something happens.”

M didn’t understand the look the father and daughter shared, but somehow she knew it wasn’t all about the Silva situation.

Carmon nodded, just once.

Without any response, James stood and left, leaving the two women alone.

After a few beats, Carmon stood up as well, grabbing the old gun and slinging it over her shoulder like she did it every day. “You finished?” She asked, nodding to the couple of sandwiches left on the plate.

“Yes,” M sighed, pushing herself up, “I don’t think I could handle eating anymore peanut butter.”

“Keep me company while I keep watch?” She looked up from where she was rifling through her bag, “Or would you rather rest as well?”

Shaking her head, M looked at the teen, “I’m fine.”

Nodding, Carmon closed her bag and slung it over her neck and shoulder. Without a word, she walked into the room she had been sitting in just a few hours earlier, listening to her father recite. Shaking her head, sat down on the edge of the window, her foot propped up against the ledge and stared out, watching for any sign of movement. Almost immediately, she started singing the haunting tune of _Once Upon A Dream.*****_

_“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream,  
I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.”_

Behind her, M dropped onto the old, worn sofa with a soft groan, her own service weapon dangling from her hand. When the slow rendition of the classic song continued, she looked up at the teen, instantly taking in the tense set of her shoulders, even as she seemed to relax against the window.

 _“And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem,_  
But if I know you, I know what you'll do,  
You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.”

Watching the brunette, M tilted her head, her thoughts turning back to the few other times she had heard her singing. Almost every time it was after she had passed on information about James, usually about him being injured. Each time, it was another classic Disney song.

_‘Coping mechanism.’_

Before she could analyse the teen any further, she was pulled from thoughts by Kincade clomping into the room, his booming voice bouncing off the walls.

“The nights get cold here.” He explained as he held out the thick scarf for M.

_“But if I know you, I know what you'll do.”_

“Thank you Mr Kincade.” Eyes shifting to the teen as she wrapped the scratchy material around her neck, she watched her closely as she spoke, “It’s a beautiful old house.”

Smiling, the old man looked around the room, “She is.” Looking back down at her, he dropped his voice some, not noticing the halting of singing, “And like all great ladies, she still has her secret ways.”

M looked at Carmon, who still stared out the window. Even though she wasn’t looking at her, she knew that the young woman was aware of everything going on behind her.

“Let me show you something.”

Glancing back at Carmon, M saw her roll her eyes in the reflection of the glass and smiled. Turning back around, she followed the old Scot, frowning when he stopped in front of the fireplace. Before she could say anything, he slipped a small latch hidden under the mantel. Surprised that she had missed that when she had had a look around, she stepped closer to get a better look at the small tunnel behind the wall.

“A priests hole.”

He nodded, “It leads under the moor.” Glancing at the woman beside him, he lowered his voice once more, “The night I told him his parents had died, he hid in here for two days.”

To M, it felt as though the room had frozen over. Around her, the air became heavy, tense, much like the girl behind them who was listening to every word being said. Glancing between the teen and the hunched over man, M realized that he didn’t even notice the change around them.

“When he came out, he wasn’t a boy anymore.” He sighed, pushing away from the tunnel, “Must get on.”

Once he was out of the room, M turned to face Carmon, noting the white knuckled grip she had on the gun. “Carmon,” She called softly, “Is everything alright?”

“Fine.”

Sighing, M walked up to her, the boots thumping on the old wooden floors, and covered her hands with her own, “Carmon,” She waited until the teen looked at her, “Everything will be fine.”

Slowly, Carmon looked away from her, staring back out the window.

* * *

Just as the sky started to darken, the two women, who had sat in silence since they were joined by Kincade hours before, were joined by James. M turned in her spot, noting he looked better then he did before, if slightly rumbled from having slept in his clothes. Carmon though, she hadn’t moved since speaking. At the base of the stairs, James stopped, staring at his daughters back. Not taking his eyes off of her, he walked up to her, gently laying his hands on her shoulders. While neither said a word, it was clear to M that having her father there was enough for the young woman.

_‘I suppose after not having him around for most of her life, just having him there must be nice.’_ She thought as she watched him carefully pry the gun from her hands.

“Go and rest Carmon.”

For once, she didn’t argue, she just picked up her bag from where she sat it and went upstairs, only pausing when she passed M, silently asking her if she was going to join her.

M shook her head.

Once they heard the door clicking shut, the two MI6 workers relaxed, if only slightly as James took up position at the window, the gun resting over his shoulder.

“I fucked this up, didn’t I.” M said, looking at the gun in her hand.

James glanced at her, “No, you did your job.” Licking his lips, he turned to face her, “I read your obituary of me.”

“And?”

“Appalling.”

M cracked a smile, even scoffed lightly, “Yeah I knew you’d hate it.” She looked back down at her gun, before glancing up, “I did call you an exemplar of British fortitude.”

“That bit was alright.”

M openly scoffed this time, but when she looked up at him, she was smiling. It was an odd comfort, their bantering. But she wouldn’t trade it in for anything in the world.

It soon disappeared as the dogs start barking.

M and James straightened up, now fully alert.

It was time.

“Carmon! Get up!” James called, winking at M, “The party’s about to begin!”

M rolled her eyes, but couldn’t conceal her smile as she heard the teen groan and shout back, _“Fuck Silva and everything he stands for!”_

Seconds later, she stomped her way down stairs, bag over her shoulder, gun in hand, “What sort of time do they call this?”

James snorted, before cooling his expression, “Traffic must have been hell.”

“Oh I’ll show them hell.” Carmon said, stopping beside M, “They woke me.”

Rolling his eyes, James waved his hand, “Just, get into position.” He muttered before quickly leaving the house.

Sighing, M got up, making her way through the dining room, “Come on Carmon, you’re with me.”

Carmon followed her, taking up position to keep an eye on the other entrance to the room while M watched around the corner to see when the men were under the chandeliers.

It didn’t take long.

After the first lot of gun shots, everything seemed to happen in a blur. M flipped the switches, the men went down, and Carmon was pushed forward as they rushed through the destroyed room to get into their next spot. Unfortunately, they didn’t count on one of the men getting past Kincade. Hearing the footsteps behind them, they froze. Each thinking the same thing.

**_Silva._ **

Acting quickly, M pushed them behind an old heavy book case, and listened. As she waited for the man to enter the room, she held onto the shaking girls hand, squeezing it tightly. At the moment, it was all she could do. Hearing the floorboards creak not far behind them, she took a deep breath and spun around, pulling the trigger as many times as she could as she aimed for the man.

She wasn’t surprised that she missed, just pissed.

Ducking back in, she leant back against the case and swore under her breath, “Fuck.”

Carmon looked at her questioningly.

“I missed.” She hissed.

Nodding, Carmon spun around M, firing her own hand gun just as he let out a blaze of bullets. Feeling as though her hip was now on fire, she dropped her gun and pulled M further behind the case, covering her body with her own as much as she could. At the sound of another spray of bullets, Carmon looked up, relieved to see her father standing there.

“Are you two okay?” He asked, looking them both over.

Carmon and M shared a look before answering.

“Fine.”

James frowned, but he quickly pushed aside his worry as he turned the body over, “He’s not here.” He growled, storming up the dining room.

“Silva?” Carmon asked, frowning.

“Yes.”

“Great.” She leant her head back against the wall she and M were leaning against and closed her eyes, willing her body to relax. Seconds later, she stood up straight and looked around, frowning once more, “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” M asked, looking at her.

James stoped his pacing.

In the distance, the sound of helicopter blades and loud music could be heard.

 **** _Boom boom boom boom._  
Gonna shoot you right down,  
Take you in my arms.  
I’m in love with you,  
Love that is true.  
Boom boom boom boom.

Rushing around to the window, James drawled, “Always gotta make an entrance.”

Under her breath, Carmon groaned, “Just ruined the song for the rest of my life.”

“You two,” James said, looking from M to Carmon, “Go to the kitchen, now.”

Doing as they’re told, they dash into the kitchen, holding onto each other tightly as bullets broke through the boarded up windows. They were barely in the room when James and Kincade ran in, with James yelling at them to get behind the arch.

As more and more bullets were let lose, Carmon held M to her side. After panicking before, she was surprised to feel so calm. It was almost surreal. Barely seconds after hiding, her father yelled out once more.

“Go to the chapel, use the tunnel!”

Nodding, Carmon pulled M along as she followed Kincade to the priest hole, absentmindedly picking up the rifle after he places it on the table. As they wait for Kincade to open the small entrance to the hidden tunnel, she looked at M, not surprised to see her looking pale. Automatically, she tightened her grip on her hand. M squeezed back, but said nothing. When the old man finally managed to stop fumbling with the latch and getting inside, Carmon ushered M in first, following her closely.

It was slow work walking through the tunnel, every step she took hurt more and more. But when the woman she still held groaned, reaching out for something to lean against, she stopped. Stepping in front of her, her eyes fell to her hip, almost gaging when she saw the amount of blood covering the hand pressed there. Swallowing thickly, she glanced at M, glad to see she had her eyes closed, before grabbing the scarf from her neck. Folding it in half, she tied it around her hips as tightly as she could, making sure to cover the wound with a different part of her jacket to help stop the bleeding.

“That’ll have to do for now.”

“What about you?” M asked quietly, glancing down at the darker patch of the girls black jeans.

“It’s just a scratch.”

M huffed, “Just like your father.” Before groaning in pain, “I’m too old for this.”

“At least you’re not in heels this time.” Carmon quipped as she wrapped her arm around the woman’s waist. She didn’t bother lifting hers over her shoulders; she was too tall for it to be comfortable. It seemed M had the same thought, as she wrapped her own around Carmon’s waist, gripping jacket tightly as they slowly made their way along the tunnel. It doesn’t take them long to catch back up to Kincade, but when they did, the teen was in a great deal more tired than before; having practically carried M there. They found out quickly that putting even the smallest amount of weight on her left leg was out of the question.

Soon, but not soon enough for either women’s liking, they’re outside and well on their way to the chapel. It’s just as they spot the old, worn down building that they hear the explosion behind them. Turning around quickly, the watched as the helicopter crashed into the remains of the house, shaking the ground with another explosion.

“I told you so.” M whispered, leaning against Carmon heavily.

The teen rolled her eyes, but said nothing in return. Instead, she tightened her grip on M and trudged on.As they hobbled along, Carmon looked around. Something was wrong. It wasn’t until she saw the waving light on the ground in front of them that she realized Kincade still had the torch on.

“Turn it off!” She hissed, “Turn it off!”

“Why?” Kincade asked with a frown, turning around.

“If they spot that, we’re all fucked. Now turn the bloody thing off.”

Flicking the switch, Kincade continued on ahead, muttering, “We’re almost there anyway.”

Carmon held back a string of curse words. Now wasn’t the time.

“Come on. Almost there.” She encouraged, holding onto the hand that gripped her jacket tightly.

M rolled her eyes, but fought to keep walking. She refused to die outside.

* * *

Upon entering the chapel, Carmon took M up to the front, rationalizing that it was further away from the entrance, therefore giving them a greater chance at protecting M. Sitting her down on the pew, she collapsed in front of her with a sigh.

“Christ you’re heavy.” She muttered as she dug through her bag.

“Thanks.” M bit back, “What’re you looking for?”

“Water, I need to wash out your wound.”

“I can hel-” Kincade started, making his way towards them, only to be cut off by Carmon.

“Don’t you touch her!” She shouted, forcing herself to stand, “Touch her, and I kill you.”

Kincade reeled back, surprised by the threat, “She needs help.”

“Since when have you helped anyone besides yourself?” Carmon demanded, her blue eyes narrowing.

Suspicion settled on the old mans face, “Who are you?”

Stepping into his personal space, the teen hissed quietly, “Carmon, and I will not let you hurt another person I care for.” She glared, “So go and find me some water so I can clean out the wound.” She turned around, leaving the sputtering man by himself.

Crouching down in front of the smaller woman, she carefully untied the scarf and looked at the wound. “Well, that’s a mess.” She said, spying the wood and rock fragments mixing with the blood and dirt. “You partied just a bit too hard I think.” She smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

M scoffed, but it quickly turned into a groan as pain flared in her hip. “Christ I hurt.” She uttered, shutting her eyes.

“Hey, hey hey.” Carmon called, tapping her lightly on the face, “You need to stay awake. Stay awake okay.”

“Fuck you and everything you stand for.” M groaned quietly, rolling her head to look at her.

“That’s my mum.” Carmon smiled, only to freeze when she hears the deep voice of Silva from the back of the church. Why hadn’t she kept watch!

“Of course, it had to be here.”

Eyes widening, M forced herself up and turned around to look at the crazed man coming towards her. As she watched him, she gripped the back of the chair tightly in hopes to stop herself from falling over.

“It had to be this way,” He panted, slowly making his way up the aisle.

From the side entrance, Kincade walked in, freezing when he spots the man, “I can’t find any wa-”

“Don’t.” He ordered, shooting the wall beside him, “Please don’t.”

From her spot on the floor, Carmon spoke up, her own gun now in hand, “You should have killed him.”

Frowning, Silva looked around M, finally seeing Carmon sitting on the floor, legs crossed, bag resting against her hip, “Who are you?” He asked, looking down at her with curiosity.

“Carmon. It’s good to finally meet you face to face, Mr Silva.”

Tilting his head slightly, he frowned in thought, “You were outside the Hall.”

“Yes I was.”

“Why?” He demanded.

“I’m her body guard.”

“You’re not doing a very good job.”

“Evidently.” Carmon said, looking pointed at her wounded hip.

Silva followed her line of sight and gasped at the sight of blood. Lowering his gun, he took hold of her hand, “You’re hurt?” He whispered, soundly far more concerned than a man trying to kill her should be, “What have they done to you?”

As he pulled away, looking her over for any more injuries, Carmon stood up, making sure to have her finger on the trigger. She wasn’t stupid enough to try to be quicker than him, she knew against him she’d lose, and then so would M. So she waited.

It was only when his anger returned and he held his gun to her forehead that she raised her own. She didn’t take the shot. There was too high a chance she’d hit M instead. She wouldn’t take the bloody shot. Instead, she watched as he forced it into her hand, raising it to the side of her head and his rested his beside hers, whispering.

“Do it, free both of us with the same bullet.”

Taking aim, Carmon pulled the trigger.

As a thin line of blood rolls down his face, Silva’s eyes widen in surprise. As he fell to the ground, M backed away, gasping and shaking.

Rushing forward, Carmon pulled her into a hug, turning her away from the body.

“Why didn’t you shoot him earlier?” M asked, even as she held onto the front of Carmon’s jacket tightly.

“I didn’t want to hit you.” Carmon whispered into her hair. Looking over at the dead man, it all finally sunk in. “I’ve never killed a man before.”

“What are you talking about?” M looked up at her, “You killed the man with the hard-drive.”

“No,” Carmon shook her head, “I took the bloody shot, but I didn’t kill him. Just like you didn’t kill dad.”

Sagging against Carmon, M covered her wounded hip with her hand once more, “Where is your father?” She whispered, closing her eyes. _‘He can’t be dead. He can’t be dead.’_

“I don’t know, but you need to sit. I’m going to call for help.”

Carmon all but dragged her to sit on the pew again as she continued her semi-new mantra. She listened with half an ear as the girl pulled out her cell, talking quickly into the device before dropping it into her bag once more.

“Mr Tanner has people on the way.”

“Good ol’ Tanner.” M mumbled, finally opening her eyes just as James stumbles over to them, “Where the bloody hell have you been?” She demanded, although her voice wasn’t as steady as she’d hoped.

“Got into some deep water.”

“Fall into the loch again, aye laddie.”

The two Bonds glared at him until he looked away.

James turned to M, “What happened to you?”

“Bullet to the hip.”

“Party to hard M?” He asked innocently as he placed his own hand over the wound, pressing down firmly.

M hissed in pain, “Go to hell.”

He chuckled softly, _‘There’s still fight in those beautiful blue eyes yet.’_ He turned to Carmon, “Have you called for backup?”

“Mr Tanner has people on the way. They should be here soon.”

Nodding, James pulled her into a one armed hug. “That’s my girl.” He whispered, kissing her quickly on the temple.

Carmon smiled slightly and looked up at M to see her watching them closely. Holding her hand out, her smiled widened even more when she took it.

Unseen by the teen, M covered the hand on her hip as her world turned black.

* * *

Waking slowly, M listened to the sound of the machines around her beep, letting her know she was still alive. As she had become accustomed to doing, she focused on moving each finger, working the last of the sedatives out of her system. First she opened and closed her right hand until she could feel each movement, then she focused on her left, and that’s when she realized, it was being held. Blinking open her eyes, she slowly turned her head, her bright blue eyes settling on the slumped over form of James as he slept, clinging tightly to her hand. For a while, she just watched him, a small smile curling up the corners of her lips. But when the sound of scratching broke through her consciousness, she turned to the other side to see Carmon, sitting in what looked like an old padded office chair, her leg dangling over the arm. Frowning as she looked at the sketching teen, she tried to figure what was out of place about her. It wasn’t until Carmon adjusted her leg that she realized the girl wasn’t dressed in all black, but light browns.

 _‘It suits her.’_ She thought as she waited until the drawing teen noticed she was awake.

It took a few glances, but when she finally saw the older woman watching her, with a small smile, all she could say was, “You’re awake.”

“Disappointed?”

Carmon snorted and closed her book, slowly twisting in her chair to sit properly, “No, you’re paying for my dry cleaning.”

“Dry cleaning?”

Looking up at the small woman, the teen smirked, “You bled all over my favourite jacket.”

“Oh I’m so sorry,” M rolled her eyes, “I’ll try not to the next time I’m shot.”

The pair looked at each other before laughing softly, mindful of the sleeping agent.

“How are you feeling?” Carmon asked, putting her book on the small table beside the bed.

“Like I’ve been shot.” Carmon shook her head, but doesn’t push the matter any further, “What about you? How’s your scratch?”

Lifting her loose top to show the small bandage she has on her hip, she grumbled, “I get shot and I’m not even going to have a scar to go with the story.”

M shook her head, but smiled in amusement. Sighing, she looked at James, “How is he?”

Carmon smiled slightly, looking at her father as well, “He’s fine, just exhausted.” She settled back into her chair, “He hasn’t left your side since you came out of surgery. Well, except for when they decided to use me as a pin cushion. But that was only for an hour.”

M frowned, glancing at where she knew the bandage sat. It wasn’t that large, “How many stitches did you need?”

Carmon blushed and looked down when a thick voice replied, “Four.”

M lookd at James, “It took an hour for four stitches?”

“Well, now that you’re awake,” Carmon said, pushing herself out of the chair as quickly as she could, “I’ll just go grab something to eat.”

She was out of the room before either of them could say anything.

“An hour?” M repeated, looking back at the man who still held her hand.

James nodded, “As you know, Carmon doesn’t trust a lot of people, she also hates needles, so I ended up having to patch her up.”

“It took you an hour to do four stitches?”

“It took an hour for her to calm down enough to let me.”

She went to speak, but at that moment, Carmon walked back in carrying two bottles of water, her long skirt swishing around her legs.

Stopping at the end of the bed, she looked M in the eye, “Not one word.” She waited until the woman nodded before carefully sitting down once more. Twisting the cap off one of the bottles, she passed it to M, “Here.”

“Thank you dear.”

Carmon smiled and twisted the cap off the other as her father spoke up.

“What, I don’t get one?”

“Shut up and go back to sleep.”

Outside the room, the few workers still there looked up from their work as they heard their boss laugh. They all shared looks before going back to work. They wouldn’t tell a soul.

* * *

* * *

**Epilogue**

* * *

* * *

As the trio made their way to the car after leaving Medical for their final check-ups, M couldn’t help thinking back on the last few months of her life.

So many things in her life had changed since the fiasco with Silva. Upon their return to London, she had offered to let Bond and Carmon stay with her until they could find a suitable place to live. Carmon decided to give up apartment hunting the second the words left the woman’s lips, not that she told either of the MI6 workers. The first few nights Carmon and M shared the bed while James slept in the spare room. Each night, they had nightmares. Each night, James would join them and hold them, allowing them to have a few undisturbed hours of sleep. But as the weeks went on, Carmon’s dreams passed, M’s did not.

One night, after her father had joined them, Carmon slipped from the bed and silently padded across the hall to the spare room. From that night on, James and M shared a bed. They didn’t speak about it, they didn’t need to. It was what it was. She couldn’t help but wonder why he stayed. Even when they fought, and they did fight, he stayed, comforting her as she screamed herself hoarse.

Coming to a standstill, she watched as the two Bonds continued on their way to the car. Carmon was already in the back when James turned, looking at her with an arched brow.

“M?”

Shaking her head, she walked up to him, pausing when she stood beside him. Licking her lips, she asked the question she had worn on her lips for months. It was like a loose thread she couldn’t resist pulling, even though she knew it would unravel everything around her.

“Do you love me?”

“Yes, yes I love you.”

“Do you really?”

“You have my word.” He turned toward her, his voice as empty as always, “You have all my words.”

It was his eyes that gave way to his honesty, just as they always did when it came to her. So he did know she had seen his journal. Nodding, she turned back to the car, hands stuffed tightly into her pockets.

“Well, one thing is for certain,” She said, holding the door open, “Things won’t be boring.” And with a smile, she hopped back into the car.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *She was beautiful – F. Scott Fitzgerald
> 
> **The Seventh Sea – Lang Leav
> 
> *** Passing Time – Lang Leav
> 
> ****Jealousy – Lang Leav
> 
> *****Once Upon A Dream – Lana Del Ray


End file.
